When we underestimate dogs, we underestimate ourselves.
In which Jill tells a few rescue stories—with happy endings!—to prove her point.
In 2023, I was attacked by a dog—let’s call him Maverick—in a shelter’s play yard. I was standing a few feet away reviewing his behavior notes while a volunteer held his leash. There was no warning. I didn’t greet Maverick, pet Maverick, make eye contact, or ask him if he was a good boy.
Then, out of nowhere—BAM! Maverick latched onto my leg, then let go…and clamped down harder. The next time I see you, I’ll show you the holes.
As you might imagine, I was a little freaked out. I hadn’t done anything to provoke Maverick. Was it my energy? Did I make any sudden moves? Did I remind him of someone? These questions haunted me and affected my rescue work. Suddenly, I was letting other people handle dogs I would’ve taken myself. Sitting on the ground with them? Forget it. Once your calf has been a dog’s chew toy, you think twice.
We prefer to keep our limbs puncture-free.
At Outta the Cage, we have a rule: we don’t rescue dogs we haven’t met in person. This policy irks people who text us photos of dogs in far-flung shelters hoping we’ll swoop in and save them. But trust me: it’s helped us avoid plenty of problems (and potential leg injuries).
Meeting a dog before rescuing them gives us more insight into their personalities and quirks. Are they shy? Social? Playful? Shut down? It helps us set them up for success and accurately represent them. This deeper understanding can also accelerate the bond between the dog and their adopter.
When it comes to dog intros, I’m cautious—like “bubble wrap everything” cautious. If both dogs aren’t balanced and chill, we enlist the help of one of our trainers. Human anxiety can sabotage an adoption, but human overconfidence? That’s downright dangerous.
Case in point: once, arriving at a potential adopter’s home to introduce a rescued Belgian Malinois to the resident German Shepherd, the adopter suggested skipping the parallel walk. “Let’s just put them in the backyard and let them work it out,” she suggested. Spoiler alert: that visit ended quicker than a Malinois intercepting a tennis ball.
But often there’s a dog we don’t have the opportunity to assess—the potential adopter’s other dog. And that pup has veto power.
Your dog might surprise you.
Take Grover—a 4-month-old puppy who was on death row at East Valley shelter because of an undiagnosed rash. We rushed to rescue him and get him medical care. Once his infection cleared up, Grover transformed into the life of the party—a goofy puppy with boundless energy.
At an adoption event, Grover charmed a lovely family. While they were smitten, they worried about their current dog Ruby, a pittie-lab mix used to being an only child. We suggested meeting for a parallel walk to see how the two dogs would do.
The leash walk went well. No face-to-face meetings—just side-by-side walking while Grover bounced around and Ruby processed what was happening. She looked to her family for reassurance. We switched up handlers, walked some more, and finally let the dogs sniff one another.
Ruby started to relax. The family decided to give Grover a try—with acclimation instructions in hand and our promise to take him back if Ruby wasn’t feeling it.
Soon after, the family texted me: “Grover is doing great, and he and Ruby are now the best of friends! He's such a sweet pup—we feel so grateful our paths crossed."
Moral of the story? It wasn’t Grover who we’d underestimated: it was Ruby!
There are no silver bullets.
Every dog is an individual, with their own experiences, partialities, and baggage. There’s no magic formula for introducing dogs, diagnosing triggers, calming anxieties, or teaching them “sit/stay” (though freeze-dried liver snacks help).
With all the complexities and wild cards involved in rescue, why do we keep doing it? Because each dog has the potential to be their best self—with some patience and love from us humans. For every Maverick, there are countless Rubies waiting to surprise us with their resilience and smarts.
When we meet dogs where they are—anxious, fearful, or goofy—we save lives. And honestly? That’s worth every hole in my jeans.
