The Blurry Photo That Started Everything
We saw her perky little brown-and-white face with floppy ears on a blurry photo posted to one of the many Facebook animal rescue pages in Portugal.
Yes, it's blurry. No, that didn't stop us.
We'd been cruising the rescue pages on Facebook for a while. The idea was to add to our little "pack." Our current royal, a 10-year-old, 9-pound, hypoallergenic cloud puff named Sawyer, had been our only dog for years. Ron and he are best buds.
- Little Sawyer's lounge wear: Ron.
Sawyer, very pleased with this ongoing arrangement.
Yet Ron was imagining the addition of a slightly bigger, more athletic companion, one who might like long runs on the beach, hikes, and adventures that don't involve being carried like a throw pillow.
When Ron and I got together 23 years ago, he brought along a Jack Russell terrier, a little beast full of joy and athleticism. She died nine years ago, but that imprint stayed. So, when we saw this long-legged little mystery pooch, something clicked.
We'd just moved to a house in Lagos with a small yard near the beach, a big change from our apartment. More space meant we could maybe open our home to a dog who needed it.
The one in the blurry photo was with Guccitos Adoptions, a small rescue shelter run by an Austrian powerhouse of a human named Christiane.
- Christiane, here with the little no-name, runs a small rescue org in northern Portugal.
A Life in a Cage
Christiane, who already had eight rescue dogs under her roof (how does she even have time to blink?), laid it out plainly… the dog, unnamed at that point, was about two years old, weighed in at 13 pounds, and had spent her entire life in an outdoor cage in her own waste.
She had never been walked. Never slept on a soft surface. No one had spoken to her with gentleness or care. There was no variation in the days. Only confinement, and time.
If you're still with me: yes, that part stung. She was the last to be rescued from that particularly dire situation. Christiane had extricated her mother and siblings earlier.
Ron and I talked to Christiane over a few days, sharing our history as dog guardians. She, in turn, had vetted us by checking out our Facebook accounts and friends, and reading our posts – as she explained in a cheerful Austrian accent that almost made digital vetting sound charming.
In another voice message she reminded us:
"This dog has had a really, really terrible life. She doesn't know anything. Two years in a cage… no human connection, no grass under her feet. But she's lovely. She's lovely with other dogs. She's lovely with people. She just needs a chance."
- Not entirely convinced, checking out grass,
- one paw at a time.
We hesitated.
Not because we didn't want to help, but because we knew this wasn't your standard, "ready-for-prime-time" rescue dog. In most rescue situations, as when we adopted Sawyer nine years earlier, the dog first goes to a foster "parent." That person does the initial heavy lifting: helping the dog adjust to home life, build trust, learn basic training, socialize, and begin healing from trauma. Only then is the dog adopted out, with a real shot at long-term success.
We weren't being handed a rehabbed sweetheart. We were being asked to be the foster parents.
No warm-up act.
However, Christiane gave us a backup plan. If it turned out to be too much, she assured us she would step back in and find another path forward. That's the essence of fostering: help for now, hope for later.
So we said yes.
The little no-name girl let us hold her during the three-hour drive from Lisbon to the Algarve, which seemed promising. But when we stopped for food and left her in the car, zipped into a cozy breathable nylon travel crate, we returned to find a frantic animal who had torn her way out and made it to the front seat. Her fear, her strength, and her panic were all on full display. The crate was toast.
- Our cue that she wasn't ready for
- crate training.
We held her for the rest of the ride.
We learned quickly: crates were a non-starter. Understandably, confinement = trauma. So instead, at home we tethered her leash to a heavy table leg and kept the door open. She didn't want to be alone, so we made sure she wasn't.
- Settling down – staying safe in the back of her
- crate – with an open door!
The first couple nights were restless, but she began to settle. I introduced CBD oil, which helped a great deal. It's legal in Portugal and acts like a gentle irrigation system for a stressed nervous system. There's actual research behind this, not just anecdote. A peer-reviewed study on CBD and canine stress found measurable drops in cortisol and stress behavior in dogs given a single dose. Worth knowing.
Her crash course in how to be a "house dog" was intense. Stairs were a puzzle. Beds made her uneasy. Rugs were strange textures underfoot. Toys? Just confusing objects she didn't recognize. Everything was unfamiliar.
The most challenging was that she had no aversion to eliminating indoors. Why would she? For two years, a cage floor was her bathroom.
So we rolled up the rugs, stocked up on enzyme spray, and committed to many, many walks.
- She didn't know the rules yet, but she knew she was safe.
- Happy dog!
She improved steadily. She began to walk on a slip leash. She sniffed dogs and wagged her tail. She eyed Sawyer with amused curiosity, often trying to herd him, which Sawyer found deeply offensive.
- Boundless energy meets firm personal policy.
- He did not consent to being a play toy.
Someone Starts to Shine
Once her nervous system began to settle, around Day 3, we saw her true personality emerge. And wow, she was a spark.
So we named her Zoe. It's Greek for "life," or more specifically, that persistent, primal life force that remains even after everything else has been stripped away. Fitting.
Zoe was smart. So smart. Within just days, we could see how quickly she picked things up. It was clear that, with patience and consistency, she had the potential to become an incredible companion.
- Smart, strong, and already learning the game.
The Realization
Zoe, as it turns out, is a working dog… a breed trait. Podengos, Jack Russells, even Yorkies – they're not lap dogs in disguise. They're designed to hunt, problem-solve, move, chase, think, and dig. They need a job.
Zoe, possibly part podengo (a Portuguese hunting dog) and Jack Russell, doesn't want to lounge on a pillow (á la Sawyer). She wants to solve crimes and win the decathlon. We discovered she needs to be busy. Very busy.
And by Day 7 or 8, we started to feel the dissonance between our hearts and our reality.
Zoe was never aggressive, but she was too much for Sawyer. He'd go stiff whenever she pounced near him, and she, despite her gentle instincts, couldn't help herself. At just 13 pounds, she was tall and leggy – but with the energy output of a medium-sized hurricane. Sawyer is 9 pounds of velvet loaf. It wasn't a great match. We watched him retreat into corners and under furniture.
- Sawyer finding the safest geometry in the room.
And then there was us: 70 and 74, full of commitment… and also fully aware of our limits. The truth was dawning on us fast.
It became clear that Zoe needed a household that could match her speed and stamina.
We were walking her several times a day because we had no safe way to let her run off-leash… she wasn't yet trained to come when called, and we couldn't risk her bolting into traffic or into someone's beach picnic.
We offered a beginning. She needed someone who could take her further.
On Day 10, we made the call. We weren't going to fail at this. We were going to be successful foster parents. We'd given her a soft landing, got her out of the misery. Now she needed lift-off.
We returned her to Christiane, who, with a few dogs less now and true to form, welcomed Zoe into her own space… in her office. She's keeping Zoe safe, out of harm's way, and gently profiling her on re-homing pages, looking for a forever home that fits her spark, her energy, and her future.
Why Share This?
Because it's easy to post a perfect adoption photo and slap on a heart emoji. But real rescue work is more than "save the dog, live happily ever after."
Sometimes it's "save the dog, try your best, realize the limits, and help them get to their next chapter."
If you're thinking of bringing a rescue dog into your life, especially one who's had a hard start, here are some things to think about –
Before You Adopt or Foster:
- Visit the dog. Spend time with them. Get a real feel for their energy and needs.
- Assess your home. Is it dog-safe? Dog-proof? Dog-ready?
- Know the breed or mix. A working dog is not a decorative accessory. It's a full-time gig.
- Be honest about your energy and age. Your heart might say yes, but can your body keep up?
- Start as a foster. It gives you and the dog a chance to test the fit, but don't dink around with it. This isn't a 10-day free trial from Netflix. Fostering costs rescue organizations time, energy, and resources. Be honest, be prepared, and respect the fact that someone already did the hard work to get that dog out of hell and into your hands.
- Consider your current pet(s). Will they welcome a new housemate or plot your downfall?
- Plan for accidents. Emotional and physical.
- Get support. Trainers, vets, behaviorists. And yes, CBD oil for dogs helped us immensely. (Look into it. It's a game changer.)
- Have a backup plan. Sometimes love means letting go.
The Bigger Picture
In Portugal alone, there are estimated to be over 100,000 stray dogs, and that doesn't include the ones like Zoe: technically "owned," but neglected, caged, or forgotten.
But this isn't just a Portugal problem. Dogs like Zoe exist everywhere, across borders, across cultures, chained, abandoned, or simply overlooked.
The ASPCA estimates around 6.3 million companion animals enter U.S. shelters every year. Most of them just need a first safe landing. And if you've been feeling the weight of all of it, not just the animals but the stress of the world right now, that's real too.
Rescue work isn't glamorous. It's messy, inconvenient, and often heartbreaking. But it matters.
Thankfully, there are people like Christiane. People who weren't asked or assigned, but who simply couldn't look away.
Zoe's story isn't about failure. It's about rescue in its full form: helping, healing, handing off. She came into our lives for ten short, intense, beautiful days. And while we couldn't keep her, we're grateful we got to be one small part of her journey home.
Letting go is its own kind of grief. If that landed for you, this piece on pain versus suffering is worth a few minutes. And if you've been thinking about begin healing from trauma in your own life, not just a dog's, it's a good place to start.
What are your thoughts? Have you opened your home, or your heart, to a rescue animal – or watched as someone else did? I'd love to hear your experience.
With Love, Becca
P.S. I know, we've been talking about rescue dogs. But what about rescuing yourself? If you've been feeling the pull to pause, reset, or reconnect to something deeper, I'm hosting a Cannabis Elevation Ceremony Sunday, January 18th. It's not about escaping, it's about coming home to yourself, with intention and support.
If that sounds like something you're craving, you can register here.
I'd love to have you join me.
If you like peace and quiet, get a cat, ours sleeps 20hr/day😹
Dogs sleep a lot too (like 17 hours/day) … but, of course, it all varies according to the difficulties the animal has been extricated from. Sounds like your kitty settled in nicely.
Great story. I have two rescue cats, one who was abandoned in a horrible rescue shelter at the age of 5 and the other one at 4 months was pregnant at a shelter and once she had her adorable kittens, no one wanted the mother with swollen tits. Except I knew those tits would shrink and the younger cat is now best friends with the older cat who has a new life of play and running and sleeping together at the end of my bed, despite their age differences (Magic is 16, Sashimi is 2)…spoiled and great companions for life with me.
Of course, a farm girl in the know! Talk about a May/December relationship. How sweet.
Oh Becca, I want to be happy reading your piece, however, it pulls at my heart strings. You are right of course: fully understanding the role of a rescue parent and all that it entails becomes paramount to everyone\’s happiness, especially the dog\’s and your family\’s..
We are on our third rescue: first Trudy Love, a 120 lb. Great Dane who was kept in a pole barn on a cement slab, during cold winters and hot summers for 1-1/2 years till the wife of the owner couldn\’t watch her husband yell at Trudy Love every day for one reason or another. When he threatened to shoot her if she continued to bark, the wife called the Great Dane Rescue and they came and got her while her husband was gone.
Into our home, she became our first dog in decades of marriage and three sons later. Trudy didn\’t pee, poop or bark for three days once arriving at our home. Scared to death of us, she stared at us and refused to move. She too had never touched grass or been outdoors. She had never been in a house nor walked without being tied up. Yet, we loved her from the start. To tell the truth, however, she was a challenge. She barked loudly at anyone coming to the door of our home or especially to anyone who entered. Yikes. Her bark could scare the boldest of our friends and I never got over the fear I felt deep down that she might attack, though I strongly doubted it. She didn\’t, but her bark was deep enough and loud enough to keep us on red alert should a friend join us for dinner or come over to play with one of our sons.
In the 5-1/2 years we had her, she never learned to wait to pee outside but did so on a basement slab of linoleum she had access to during the day when we were at work or our sons in school. She eliminated outdoors once we were home, and we were most grateful for that. She was our grateful love bug who loved us, dearly, especially our middle son. At age 7, she died one night in the middle of the night unexpectedly, next to his bed. At one in the morning, Clark came into our room yelling, \”Mom, Dad, Trudy\’s dead!\” crying hard. We all mourned her passing and learned to live without her fierce bark and big heart.
Two years later, we tried to rescue a less damaged Great Dane, Vanessa,. But the owners changed their minds after the agreement had been made to pick her up. Two years later, she was advertised again in our local paper. I called and sure enough it was her! This time they were ready and so were we! She greeted us outside her huge crate in the driveway of the couple who kept her crated all day and who, to their credit, became saddened that most of her future life would be that she\’d live only in her crate all day, every day. Gratefully, we welcomed Vanessa into our car, our home, and our hearts.
She was a happier dog than Trudy Love from the beginning. At age 1-1/2 and 99 lbs., she was potty trained (yahoo!) and more than willing to cooperate and love us though again, with a big bark but seeming to be less of threat somehow to friends and strangers who\’d come to our door or enter our home. She lived for a total of 10 years before we had to say goodbye, again with no warning. One day lying down next to our bed refusing to eat or drink or get up, 12 hours later, she passed. A huge dark cloud of sadness entered our home, but we understood that it was her time to leave and our time to just be grateful for the time she was able to share with us. In her last hours, we lied next to her on our floor next to our bed, sweetly assuring her all was well, that we loved her and would miss her. She seemed to understand.
Time passed without a dog.
Five years later, rescue #3, Waldo, came to us, a 7 lb. skinny little chihuahua/miniature pinscher mix from a hoarding situation in a house in rural Tennessee with 43 other dogs. She was the smallest of the 43. I saw her on a Facebook picture taken by her foster mom, a friend of mine, and fell in love with her huge ears, big eyes, and tiny body. We took a chance and got her and my husband and I, now with our sons grown and out of the house, loved him from the start. I say we took a chance because after two Danes, we weren\’t sure we were little-dog people. Seemed odd to us to consider her little self. But we couldn\’t help smiling just looking at her picture. In person, our hearts melted, and it was love at first meeting, through and through. She wasn\’t potty trained, but our diligent two-hour potty schedule grew into a good habit starting at 2 weeks and was firmly in place by 6 weeks. Much to happiness, we continued a 2-hour going-out schedule for the next 6 months. It worked! Now, she wouldn\’t go in the house unless she was desperate and we were less than diligent. It\’s happened a couple times, but it\’s a rarity, I\’m proud to say. Our efforts have paid off. Thank goodness!
Over the next four years, Waldo has gained weight to 12 lbs with his skinny nine-inch legs displaying his min-pin ancestry and his sweet temperament greeting us each morning after sleeping between my husband and me, sharing our bed, each and every night. It is a love affair that runs so deep we hate going on vacay unless he can accompany us.
Our Waldo, now 7, is totally attached to us and we to him. He spreads his love and friendliness wherever he goes and with whomever he meets. He, too, barks loudly, but people only laugh as if to say, \”Really? Do you think we are afraid of you, Waldo? We are NOT!\”
The only thing he hates is being ignored, by us or by anyone! He wants a lap and snuggles with anyone willing to provide one. Funniest is the fact that he will not walk with only one of us. We must both accompany him. If one of us tries to walk him, and we\’ve tried many times, he digs in his little paws and refuses to budge, no matter what. Now that\’s attachment to both of us at the same time!
Going from 120 to 7 lbs. for a pet took us a very short time to get used to. When our Danes got tired on a walk, they\’d lay down on the terrace next to whatever sidewalk we were on in whatever neighborhood we were in, no matter how far or close to home we were. We couldn\’t pick them up. too heavy, obviously. We\’d have to simply WAIT until THEY decided it was time to go home. But with Waldo, when tired, he prances home almost faster than his little legs can carry him, making a beeline directly for home. And should he ever lie down, well that\’s easy, we just scoop him up and carry HIM home in our arms, grateful he\’s small and light enough to carry.
***
My recommendation to anyone wanting the love of a dog in their home is to know what you are getting into. And know what you are willing to put up with as well as what you want to experience in size, weight, acceptable ages, background, and personality. Don\’t be closed minded, but on the other hand, read about the breed, think about the size and the resulting bark and how you\’ll feel taking your dog in public or accepting anyone into your home. How much and WHAT are you willing to give of your effort to be the best doggie parent you can be? Good question, right?
Think carefully about who you are willing to be for your new companion, and then open your heart and put out the call into the ethos for your new desired pal. The Universe has a way of lining up possibilities. It\’s up to you to know yourself and your situation well enough to make a wise choice. It\’ll all come together and WHEN you find your rescue, you\’ll know it. Seize the moment and go for it, so someone else doesn\’t step in and steal your chance to have one of the best experiences of your life….that of the love of a dog who is your match and needs your courage and deep love to be expressed. If unsure, WAIT. LISTEN. THINK. ACCEPT what your wise self is saying to you. There\’ll be another chance, later, when the time is right. (Remember my story of Vanessa?) Trust yourself, do your due diligence, dig down deep, and accept what you know to be best at this time. Do that, and your chances will be greater that you will meet your new companion. And hopefully come to be together for a long, long time.
Good luck to you, Becca, and to all who have read this account.
By the way, one of the pictures of me, holding Waldo, is in the depths of my website. See address below if you are interested, and once you are onto the website, scroll down to One-on-One Health Coaching with Lorilee, scroll down a bit more, and click on \”Read more>>\” on the red button below. Thanks for taking the time to let me share my story with you. ~ Lorilee
Lorilee, thank you so much for sharing your story, it’s a whole life, really. I can feel the heartbreak and the joy in every paragraph. Trudy Love, Vanessa, and Waldo each brought their own brand of challenge and magic, and I love how honestly you speak to the complexity of loving a rescue dog, not just the devotion, but the daily logistics, the emotional labor, and the occasional existential stare-down with the question, “Can I really do this?”
I especially appreciate what you said about knowing yourself first… knowing what you can offer, and what you can’t. That was so central in our story with Zoe. It’s not just about saving a dog, it’s about showing up in a way that’s sustainable and kind for everyone involved.
And yes… the Universe really does seem to have a way of matching hearts when the time is right. I believe this across the board.
Thank you again for this beautiful reflection and for being such a devoted, thoughtful dog guardian across three very different lives. Waldo sounds like a 12-pound love magnet with excellent boundaries and taste. I will absolutely check out your site.
Hi Becca,
Oh Becca, I can relate to your story.. We provided foster care for a dog in Nosara in 2019.
Sadie had been abandoned as a pup and lived on the streets for several months. She was quite sick when we took her, so we spent a good month or so giving her medications and nursing her back to health. She was very loving, quite docile, and spent many hours in our laps. As she began to recover she became much more playful, and was affectionate but spent much less lap time. Over the next few months, she became trained to follow commands, walk with a leash, and was housetrained. We loved going to the beach with her and walking/exploring as she would lead the way.
We had mentioned to the animal care folks that we could only foster for 6 months as we had a month-long trip planned, but that if the dog was still available after our return, we would gladly adopt her. We gave Sadie up a few days before our departure. She was taken by a family who left for the evening the day they fostered her. She promptly destroyed furniture and peed everywhere. They promptly gave her up. The animal care facility found another foster family. Three days after we gave Sadie up, we took our last walk on the beach before leaving. When we arrived at the beach we saw Sadie! We called “Sadie! Sadie!! and got down on our knees to greet her. She passed by us like we were friendly strangers. And that is when I said to Kevin that she showed a classic lack of attachment .
Because she had not formed a bond with anyone in her early years, it seemed she was unable to fully attach to loving caretakers. I had seen attachment disorder in people; now it seemed to be evident in Sadie. We were happy to take care of Sadie and loved having her in our home. We would do the same again with another animal in a heartbeat.
Sadie was not available when we returned from our trip. It was a bit of a relief for me. I was struggling with how to care for a dog that might exhibit lack of attachment indefinitely. Before this, I did not realize that for me loving a pet was connected with them attaching to me. I realized I was not interested in caring for a pet who did not care who the caregiver was.
That moment on the beach you describe really stuck with me, Mary. It’s such a clear reminder of how deep that early damage can go, and how love and good care don’t always translate the way we hope. We’ve been watching season one of The Dog Whisperer lately, and wow… it’s made us realize how often we try to relate to dogs like we do with traumatized people. But it’s a different language entirely. Your story really brings that into focus. Thank you!
Thank you for sharing this truthful story of your journey with fostering and rescuing. We lost Mambo, our “heart dog” four months ago after a decade of beautiful, challenging togetherness. He had been a stud at a puppy mill and was a 3 yr old, WILD THING, just neutered by the rescue group. He had never been in a house, seen or used stairs, never had a name or any bonding and definitely had a few scars from mistreatment. He was 30 lbs underweight when we adopted him, basically being starved and only used for stud work. Why? Because he was GORGEOUS, had the softest puppy like fur of any of my four standard poodles and want a gentle, oafish boy. He never growled, never fought, never fussed. We guess his seed was good material. We learned SO MUCH during that first year, about ourselves, about dogs, about dedicated humans and animal abusers. Mambo didn’t sleep through the night until his 40th evening with us. My husband and I agreed that if he didn’t “fit” in our lives or with our other dog, we would take him back. When my husband finally said it’s time to give him up, I said I would respect that opinion but I wouldn’t make the two hour drive with him and I wasn’t sure if I would ever live comfortably with that decision. I was in love with a very broken dog. Being childless by choice, this was apparently my motherhood moment in life. I was younger then and more patient with interrupted sleep, running after a wilding beast and near day and night chaos. We made it, we came to adore him in ways like no other dog. He moved to Portugal with us and thrived for two more years. One day in August, without any warning or illness, he couldn’t stand up. He was gone by that evening. It was his time and I wish that ending for everyone and every dog I love. We are now considering another rescue and your recent experience is so helpful for me to approach this decision with honesty, balance, clarity. Thank you.
What a story Diane and thank you for sharing Mambo’s journey. It’s beautiful and raw and full of hard-earned love. I can feel how much he gave you, and how much you gave him right back. That kind of bond… it changes you.
Your experience reminded me of our little Sawyer. The rescue organization suspected he’d also been used as a stud in a puppy mill, then dumped at a kill facility in Texas when his “fight” outweighed his value.
All nine pounds of him came packed with attitude and defiance. We like to say he fought his way right into our arms.
The early days were rough. He’d charge at huge dogs like he was auditioning for a bar fight. And men in black pants and shoes? Absolute enemies, for reasons known only to his nervous system. He’s a different dog now, but that old instinct still shows up sometimes. It’s just… who he is.
Thank you again for sharing Mambo’s story. I hope whatever comes next brings as much depth and connection, maybe with a little less chaos, and a little more rest ❤️
Thanks Becca, what an uplifting story, to start my day … instead of the usual nonsense on my news feed … 🤔
Thanks Séan! We certainly need breaks from the craziness of it all!