Ten Days, One Dog, Big Lessons.

The Blurry Photo That Started Everything

 

 

 

 

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.

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.”

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

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 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.

 

 

 

 

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.

 

 

 

 

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.