Why I Love Rescues...

I groomed a rescue dog last week who’d been passed through four homes in five years.

Four different houses.

Four different sets of rules.

Four times having to figure out who was safe, what hands meant, and whether this place would last.

Dogs are pack animals. They don’t just “adjust.”

They attach. Deeply.

When a dog is rehomed, it’s not just a new couch or a new yard.

It’s the loss of their family.

And yet.

He still wagged when I called his name.

Still leaned into the dryer once he realized it wasn’t going to hurt.

Still sighed and softened when the brush hit just right.

Still tried.

Most of them do.

The ones who don’t—the ones who freeze, who shut down, who stop offering trust—those are the dogs people label difficult, broken, too much.

Those are the ones who sit the longest in shelters.

We call rescue dogs “resilient.”

But it’s not resilience.

It’s grace we haven’t earned.

After years of grooming, I’ve seen it over and over again. Dogs who’ve been failed, bounced, neglected, misunderstood… and still show up ready to believe that maybe this time will be different.

I think about that dog a lot.

What he remembers.

What he chooses to let go of.

And how much courage it takes for him to lean in—one more time—onto a grooming table, into a stranger’s hands, into hope.

If that’s not bravery, I don’t know what is.