How Pawlymorph Was Born: A Dog, a D20, and a Very Expensive Lesson

Pawlymorph didn’t start as a business idea. It started as chaos.

In late 2020, I brought home Otto, a miniature schnauzer puppy with two settings: asleep and absolute menace. Otto was a bottomless well of energy, curiosity, and mischief. He loved treat-dispensing toys, especially a rubber hedgehog that quickly became his favorite object in the apartment. He figured out that if he hooked a tooth into the treat hole on the bottom and flipped it onto the floor, it would bounce just right and spill treats faster.

At the time, I joked that it looked like he was rolling his own dice, something he must have picked up from watching my then-girlfriend and me play board games. I had no idea how literal that joke would eventually become.

Learning Otto’s Rhythm

As Otto got older, I became intimately familiar with his daily schedule. I knew when he was most active and when he would burn himself out. To help with separation anxiety, I started leaving the apartment for short trips: grabbing the mail, running to the store, or sometimes just walking around the block. Gradually, he learned that me leaving did not mean the end of the world.

Eventually, I worked up the nerve to see friends again. Otto handled it beautifully. He would usually wander into his crate and pass out.

One night, I decided to push things a little further.

It was after 9 p.m., and Otto was completely passed out on the couch. We had gone on a long walk earlier, and he looked peaceful and exhausted. I considered putting him in his crate, but he looked content enough where he was. I gated off the stairs and entryway, closed the kitchen door, and quietly left the apartment.

When I came back, he was in the exact same spot.

I was thrilled. It felt like a milestone and proof that he could be trusted outside the crate.

The Glitter Problem

Otto woke up, jumped off the couch, and we went outside so he could pee. When we got back inside, I went to wipe his paws and noticed something strange.

He was sparkly.

At first, I brushed it off. My girlfriend had recently moved in, and I assumed it was glitter from clothing or nail polish. Then I noticed glitter on the couch blanket. Then more on the floor.

That’s when the panic set in.

Otto had gotten into my ex’s dice collection.

Not just any dice, but handmade resin dice.

He had chewed and eaten a few of them.

I immediately spiraled. If the resin was not fully cured, it could be toxic. I rushed him to the only 24-hour emergency vet clinic in DC, convinced I had failed him in the worst possible way.

Because COVID restrictions were still in place, I had to wait in the car. Every hour, I called for updates. Every hour, I was told he was nervous but okay and still waiting. Meanwhile, Otto was just thrilled to be on another car ride.

When he was finally seen early the next morning, the vet told me he was fine. He had been given laxatives and would likely pass everything without issue. He was young, healthy, and dogs do things like this sometimes.

The relief was overwhelming.

From Panic to Possibility

A few days later, once my nerves had settled, I started thinking about the incident differently.

What if he had his own dice to destroy?

He already loved throwing and rolling toys. What if that toy was a big D20?

That thought quickly spiraled into more ridiculous ones.

If he could roll dice, could he roll his own character sheet?What class would he be?How badly optimized was his build?

For the record, definitely a barbarian. Loud, lovable, and absolutely no stealth.

I did what I always do when I have a question. I went to Reddit.

I asked about rubber manufacturing, tooling, and how to create a prototype. Somehow, I got lucky. A few factories were willing to walk me through the process as long as I could provide a CAD model. Thankfully, I was already deep into 3D printing and modeling as a hobby, so getting a design made was not the hard part.

The hard part was the cost.

At the time, I had been furloughed due to COVID. Money was tight. But I paid out of pocket anyway.

A few weeks later, a small package arrived.

Inside were five shiny red rubber D20s.

The First Roll

I gave one to Otto immediately.

True to form, he did not hesitate. He bit into it, tossed it onto the rug, and went to town. Watching him play with it was pure joy. The toy worked, and he loved it.

At the same time, I realized just how underwater this small project had left me financially.

I posted a video of Otto with the D20 on Instagram, mostly just to share the moment. Friends started asking where I bought it. When I told them I made it, they asked if they could have one.

So I mailed out the prototypes.

Then I started wondering if anyone else might want them.

Once again, Reddit came through. People encouraged me to try Kickstarter to fund a full production run. I launched a pre-campaign page and was blown away by the response.

When the campaign officially launched, we hit over 86 percent of our funding goal in the first 24 hours, entirely through organic marketing.

No ad experience. No marketing background. Just a good idea, a great dog, and a community that believed in it.

And the Rest Is History

That’s how Pawlymorph came to be.

It started with a chaotic puppy, a vet scare, and a handful of glitter on a couch. Today, it is a way for pets and their humans to share a little piece of the games they love, safely.

Otto still destroys his toys.

Now, at least, they are made for it.