23/12/2025
I’ll admit❗️
Before I knew anything about dog rescue.
Before I took in my first foster.
Before I took the time to learn.
I thought pounds were bad places with heartless people.
The images of euthanized dogs laid out on the floor running down the hallway, who could do that? How? Why? Shame on them.
But I was so wrong. And shame on me.
Shame on me for looking the other way. Shame on me for not realizing what they’re up against.
Shame on me for ever judging the people who work there. And shame on me for not doing more to share what I’ve learned sooner.
We all see the comments on social media, “I’ll never support them—they’re a kill pound”
“Why aren’t they doing more to save those dogs?! That person said they’d take them!”
“Don’t kill this dog!”
And what do we do? We scroll right past. We won’t do so little as to compromise even the tiniest amount of our comfort and convenience to explain why those comments are misguided and directed at the wrong people.
“Pounds” are brick and mortar buildings, required by law, to take in all strays recovered by animal control, all owner surrenders, and all animals seized by law enforcement. Unlike rescues or charity operated shelters, they can’t say “no, I’m sorry we don’t have (space, time, finances, etc.)”
Instead of being mad at “pounds”, be mad at the jackass advertising his stud American Staffy on Instagram to anyone who will pay $300 but knows nothing about breeding dogs.
Be mad at the nitwit who signs a lease knowing full well that landlord doesn’t allow dogs and now she’s dumping him at the pound.
Be mad at the couple who got their puppies five years ago, included them in their baby announcement, but now claim they’re “heartbroken they can’t give them the life they deserve.”
Be mad at the person giving away free puppies on Facebook to any Joe Blow from an unwanted litter because they didn’t get their dog spayed. Be mad at the jerk who won’t surrender puppies until they’re dying of parvo, until her dog can’t walk due to muscle atrophy from being chained to a truck tire, or until he’s so emaciated that you can count every rib. Be mad at your coworker who bought that cute mini fluff ball, that (insert any breed here) doodle, or that next craze mixed breed online who couldn’t be bothered to do the bare minimum to check on the living conditions of her puppy’s mum and instead put $3000 into the hands of an animal abuser via PayPal.
And before anyone starts with “well the pound near me is (enter pathetic excuse/complaint here) check yourself. And go make it better instead of standing on the sidelines.
Donate anyway.
Volunteer anyway.
Support them anyway.
Because it won’t get better until you do.
