Dogs for adoption

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Dogs for adoption

Click below to see our available dogs on Petfinder!

Dog adoption saves lives. Adopt a dog and you'll have a friend for life! Please consider a rescue pet before you buy a dog from a breeder or pet store. Contact us, or contact another local humane society, animal shelter or rescue.

Remember, why buy when shelter dogs die!!!

Cant adopt right now but still want to help out? We have several items on our wish list!!

Dog Food!!!
Treats
Toys
Bleach
Collars and leashes
Flea and tick shampoos
Crates and kennels
Dog houses
Money for vet expenses.
FOSTER HOMES.
Dog walkers for adoption events.

We use PAYPAL.

I Found Your Dog Today...
(author unknown)

I found your dog today. No, he has not been adopted by anyone.
Most of us who live out here own as many dogs as we want,
those who do not own dogs do so because they choose not to.
I know you hoped he would find a good home when you left him out here,
but he did not. When I first saw him he was miles from the nearest house
and he was alone, thirsty, thin and limping from a burr in his paw.

How I wish I could have been you as I stood before him. To see his tail
wag and his eyes brighten as he bounded into your arms, knowing you
would find him, knowing you had not forgotten him. To see the
forgiveness in his eyes for the suffering and pain he had known in his
never-ending quest to find you...but I was not you. And despite all my
persuasion, his eyes see a stranger. He did not trust. He would not
come.

He turned and continued his journey; one he was sure would bring him to
you. He does not understand you are not looking for him. He only knows
you are not there, he only knows he must find you. This is more
important than food or water or the stranger who can give him these things.

Persuasion and pursuit seemed futile; I did not even know his name. I
drove home, filled a bucket with water and a bowl with food and returned
to where we had met. I could see no sign of him, but I left my offering
under the tree where he had sought shelter from the sun and a chance to
rest. You see, he is not of the desert. When you domesticated him, you
took away any instinct of survival out here. His purpose demands that he
travel during the day. He doesn't know that the sun and heat will claim
his life. He only knows that he has to find you.

I waited hoping he would return to the tree; hoping my gift would build
an element of trust so I might bring him home, remove the burr from his
paw, give him a cool place to lie and help him understand that the part
of his life with you is now over. He did not return that morning and at
dusk the water and food were still there untouched. And I worried. You must
understand that many people would not attempt to help your dog.
Some would run him off, others would call the county and
the fate you thought you saved him from would be preempted
by his suffering for days without food or water.

I returned again before dark. I did not see him. I went again early the
next morning only to find the food and water still untouched. If only
you were here to call his name. Your voice is so familiar to him. I
began pursuit in the direction he had taken yesterday, doubt
overshadowing my hope of finding him. His search for you was desperate,
it could take him many miles in 24 hours.

It is hours later and a good distance from where we first met, but I
have found your dog. His thirst has stopped, it is no longer a torment
to him. His hunger has disappeared, he no longer aches. The burrs in his
paws bother him no more. Your dog has been set free from his burdens,
you see, your dog has died.

I kneel next to him and I curse you for not being here yesterday so I
could see the glow, if just for a moment, in those now vacant eyes. I pray that his journey has taken him to that place I think you hoped he would find. If only you knew what he went through to reach it...and I agonize, for I know, that were he to awaken at this moment, and (if) I were to be you, his eyes would sparkle with recognition and his tail would wag with forgiveness

My Foster Dog is Beautiful
Written by: Martha O'Connor, Corgi and Corgi-mix Rescue---Missouri

My foster dog stinks to high heaven. I don't know for sure what breed
he is. His eyes are blank and hard. He won't let me pet him and
growls when I reach for him. He has ragged scars and crusty sores on
his skin. His nails are long and his teeth which he showed me are
stained. I sigh. I drove two hours for this. I carefully maneuver
him so that I can stuff him in the crate. Then I heft the crate and
put it in the car. I am going home with my new foster dog.

At home I leave him in the crate till all the other dogs are in the
yard. I get him out of the crate and ask him if he wants `outside'.
As I lead him to the door he hikes his leg on the wall and shows me
his stained teeth again. When we come in, he goes to the crate
because that's the only safe place he sees. I offer him food, but he
won't eat it if I look at him, so I turn my back. When I come back
the food is gone. I ask again about `outside'. When we come back, I
pat him before I let him in the crate. He jerks away and runs into
the crate to show me his teeth.

The next day I decide I can't stand the stink any longer. I lead him
into the bath with cheese in my hand. His fear of me is not quite
overcome by his wish for the cheese. And well he should fear me, for
I will give him a bath. After an attempt or two to bail out he is
defeated and stands there. I have bathed four-legged bath squirters
for more dog years than he has been alive. His only defense was a
show of his stained teeth that did not hold up to a face full of
water. As I wash him it is almost as if I wash not only the stink and
dirt away, but also some of his hardness. His eyes look full of
sadness now. And he looks completely pitiful as only a soap-covered
dog can. I tell him that he will feel better when he is cleaned.
After the soap, the towels are not too bad, so he lets me rub him dry.
I take him outside. He runs for joy. The joy of not being in the tub
and the joy of being clean. I, the bath giver, am allowed to share
the joy. He comes to me and lets me pet him.

One week later, I have a vet bill. His skin is healing. He likes for
me to pet him. I think I know what color he will be when his hair
grows in. I have found out he is terrified of other dogs. So I
carefully introduce him to my mildest four-legged brat. It doesn't go
well.

Two weeks later, a new vet bill for an infection that was missed on
the first visit. He plays with the other dogs.

Three weeks later he asks to be petted. He chewed up part of the rug.

Eight weeks later his coat shines, he has gained weight. He shows his
clean teeth when his tongue lolls out after he plays chase in the yard
with the gang. His eyes are soft and filled with life. He loves hugs
and likes to show off his tricks--if you have the cheese.

Someone called today and asked about him. They saw the picture I took
the first week. They asked about his personality, his history, his
breed. They asked if he was pretty. I asked them lots of questions.
I checked up on them. I prayed. I said yes. When they saw him the
first time they said he was the most beautiful dog they had ever seen.

Six months later, I got a call from his new family. He is wonderful,
smart, well behaved and very loving. How could someone not want him?

I told him I didn't know

He is beautiful.

They all are.