01/13/2026
Adopting a Dog
This sweet boy had never known love.
Not even a little. He didn’t recognize it. Couldn’t imagine it.
He was labeled “unadoptable” and placed on a euthanasia list at a kill shelter in Texas. His time was almost up. Then, at the very last moment, a rescue group stepped in and saved him—along with his two puppies.
We agreed to adopt him without ever meeting him.
We tried to prepare ourselves. We truly did.
Still, nothing could have prepared us for that first meeting.
I have never seen a dog so terrified.
He wouldn’t let us near him. Wouldn’t look at us. His tail stayed tightly tucked beneath his body like it was glued there. Fear had shaped his entire existence.
We learned he had never been walked on a leash.
Never climbed stairs.
Never slept beside a human.
So many nevers.
We made the adoption official—but during the long drive home, doubt crept in. Were we capable of helping a dog this broken? Had we taken on more than we could handle?
The first day was heartbreaking.
He was so scared he wouldn’t even go to the bathroom. At one point, he jumped our retaining wall, and for ten terrifying minutes, we couldn’t find him. When our 16-year-old daughter gently picked him up, he allowed it—but he flinched from the rest of us, as if he might bite if we came too close.
Inside the house, he hid in corners and curled up inside his kennel. He refused food. Refused water. Refused comfort.
We sent tearful messages back and forth with the rescue, unsure of what to do next. This dog was nothing like our other rescues. We felt helpless.
Then, two days later, we introduced him to our dogs.
And something incredible happened.
It was beautiful.
Watching him interact with them, we were reminded of something powerful: sometimes the best teachers aren’t humans—they’re dogs. Through them, he learned how to be a dog. How to trust. How to exist without constant fear.
Slowly, he began to change.
He played a little.
Made brief eye contact.
Allowed gentle scratches.
Started acting like he belonged.
Our daughter—his first friend, his safe place, his comfort—named him Kai, which means “rejoice.”
A perfect name for a soul who survived the unthinkable.
Just one week in, Kai is finding his place in our pack. He sleeps in bed with my daughter. He loves naps, treats, and being outside. He is learning what love feels like—and realizing it’s here to stay.
He is ours.
He is safe.
He is deeply, fiercely loved.
Kai is home. 🐕❤️
