The pleas keep coming.
I see it in the subject line before I even open the email: a desperate plea from someone wanting to rehome their dog. A few of the most recent:
“Our good dog needs a new home, and we need him out by tomorrow.”
“Good afternoon. We were referred to you by [insert large, national rescue here].”
“I read on your website that you save dogs. I have a deaf Dogo Argentino…”
“Our Armenian Gampr bit our child. Can you come pick him up?”
“We’re having a baby! Urgent rehome needed…”
On September 4th, we reached a high of 28 rehoming requests from people we didn’t know about dogs we’d never met. The throughline of all these pleas was the same: “I made a mistake.”
When these requests first began trickling in, we tried to engage. We’d share resources: trainers, pet food pantries, veterinarians, low-cost spay/neuter clinics, transporters—even pet rehoming sites. But we learned that by the time someone had reached out, they were done. And when someone decides they’re done with their dog, there’s usually no talking them out of it.
Rescue isn’t free.
We have said yes to a few rehoming requests. They are usually friends-of-friends, which makes everything easier since the mutual friend can represent both parties and we can work out a plan together. That’s how Woody, an unsocialized labradoodle, made it to his new home with adopter Tiffany. Tiffany took Woody to obedience classes, on hiking trips, even to the beach. He won a behavior award.
But—as with dogs we rescue from the shelter—rehoming came at a cost. Without a foster, Woody spent a few weeks at board-and-train, which set us back hundreds of dollars. And with adoptions slowing down, weeks are turning into months for some dogs (looking at you, Milo!).
Every dollar we spend on a rehome is a dollar we can’t spend pulling a dog from a shelter euthanasia list.
Many owners who want to rehome their dogs expect us to pick them up, find a place for them, and cover everything at no cost. What they miss is that rehoming requires the same work as shelter rescue: vetting, transport, training, and behavior assessments. Owners may be able to describe their dog’s likes, dislikes, and quirks, but that’s only part of the picture. Taking on the dog still requires a plan—and often a significant investment.
Most people expect something for nothing.
Last week, we received an email from a shelter volunteer—I’ll call her Jules—who had fallen in love with a young Great Pyrenees. Upon bringing the dog home, Jules noticed that the dog was resource guarding purloined clothing. And then resource guarding her. There was a toddler in the house, which was an accident waiting to happen. Luckily, the volunteer was familiar enough with the breed’s behaviors—yes, adorable GP puppies can easily turn into XL dogs who guard toys, food, and people!—to know that she couldn’t keep him.
She contacted Outta the Cage because we have worked with Livestock Guardian Dogs and have a trainer, Tom, who specializes in teaching them how to do what they were bred to do. Preparing these dogs for life on farms and ranches where they will guard sheep, cows, chickens, and even people is Tom’s business. And he charges money for it. Jules graciously offered to pay for the training fee and to cover transport to Tom’s facility in Nevada.
Jules is the exception, not the rule. Too often, people expect us to scoop up their dog and assume the burden at no cost. By the time they reach out—often after the situation has worsened, sometimes with a bite on record—it’s even harder for us to help. And when we explain what’s involved—transport, vetting, training, fostering—the shock and indignation can be immediate: “You call yourselves a RESCUE?”
And here’s the kicker: some people are willing to pay thousands of dollars—just not to the rescues. There are trainers who charge flat rehoming fees that climb well into the thousands. One infamous trainer charges $5,800 and stipulates that there be no follow-up once the dog is in their possession. People desperate for a smooth resolution for their pet will pay that and more to make their problem go away.
Shared responsibility keeps rescue alive.
We call ourselves a rescue whenever we can get a dog from a bad situation to a good one. But it’s worth clarifying: Outta the Cage was founded to save at-risk shelter dogs from euthanasia. We are not, and never have been, an open-door rehoming service. When we do step in, it requires the same—sometimes greater—investment of money, time, and emotional energy as shelter rescue.
We also know life happens. Job loss, illness, eviction. Those situations deserve compassion. But whether it’s a crisis or a mistake, the dog’s needs don’t go away. Covering some of the cost isn’t punishment—it’s shared responsibility.
So maybe the real question isn’t whether rehoming fees are fair. Maybe it’s this: Are we finally ready to admit that every life worth saving deserves an investment?
The only way I would give up my 15 1/2 year old rescue Wheaten mix, whom I adopted 12 years ago, is if I died.
Sounds like some humans want a rescue to completely fix their possible dog ownership mistake? Not so fast I say because when we adopt, become the parent owners of a dog, it’s not an item that we have! It’s a loving breathing being who we have chosen to join our family. It’s our newest family member. Unfortunately there are people who are not ready to understand this. After all it’s probably the same folks who take minimal responsibility for raising their human children. Hence, absolutely no easy answer.