I started making dog food in my kitchen. It became a $250 million company.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Lucy Postins, founder and Chief Integrity Officer at The Honest Kitchen. It has been edited for length and clarity.

Back in 2001, my dog, Mosi, kept getting ear infections. I was working for a pet food company at the time in product development. At home, I started preparing raw-food meals for Mosi. It helped with the ear infections almost immediately, but it was messy, time-consuming, and destroyed my kitchen.

I thought dehydrated dog food would be a cleaner option. When I mentioned it to a friend who owned a pet supply store, she encouraged me. That was the push I needed to commercialize.

It took some time to find a co-packer who understood that I wanted to produce human-grade food for dogs. Finally, I found one who believed in me and set up my website. When I placed my first test order, I realized a customer had beaten me to it. I didn't even have a shipping account set up yet, but I had my first sale.

Dog food was a common dinner table conversation in our home

My business, The Honest Kitchen, grew steadily after launching in 2002. Some of the early years are a blur. My first daughter was born in 2004, and her sister followed three years later. I was trying to follow up with every customer while also raising babies. The years went by so incredibly fast.

My husband at the time also worked for The Honest Kitchen, so we were constantly talking about work. One day at the dinner table, my daughter said, "Can we please not talk about dog food tonight?"

That was a bit of a wakeup call: the business was taking over a lot of our lives. Yet, I was proud that my kids were seeing me succeed.

I'm focused on the moral and ethical direction of the company

By 2011, we had enough sales that we were able to take outside investment. Having other people put their money behind my idea was a real moment of validation.

I had been running the company, traveling two or three times a month in my role as CEO. When my older daughter turned 9, it struck me that she was halfway to 18. I wanted the flexibility to chaperone her field trips or take her to riding lessons.

I spoke with the investors about stepping down as CEO. After about two years of transition, the then-president of the company became CEO, and I became chief integrity officer. It's the role I'm most passionate about. Sometimes it involves tasting dog food (yes, really) to make sure our product meets our standards. Mostly, it's about ensuring that the company grows in a way that aligns with my morals and ethics.

I've benefited from American culture around entrepreneurship

When I immigrated to the US from London after college, I never imagined I'd be living the American dream. The US has a real culture of wanting people to do well and celebrating success. I'm grateful I was able to come here on a work visa, eventually get my citizenship, and now employ 69 people.

In England, entrepreneurship isn't celebrated the same way. My mom and sister have never discussed my company's sales or its success with me.

There's an element of loneliness to being an entrepreneur. Not many people can relate to founding a company, and sometimes I hold back on sharing successes with friends because I don't want to sound like I'm bragging. Connecting with other founders through my investors has helped: I've been able to have conversations with them that I can't have with my immediate circle.

Despite that, many of my friendships have endured. One of my good friends, who helped me set up QuickBooks in the early days of my business, is flying in for my wedding this spring. Our relationship works because, really, I'm still the same person I was when I founded the company.