13 Cute Rescue Dog and Cat Stories From Animal Shelters That Still Remind Us Kindness and Happiness Always Find Their Way Home

A friend’s mom worked for an airline and got me a free ticket to come visit her with my two rescue dogs, Pepper and Waffles. At the airport, the agent told me the airline only allowed one pet per passenger in the cabin. I was standing at the counter with a carrier in each hand, about to cancel the whole trip. My friend’s mom called from her gate, and the next morning she flew out to meet me on her own day off, so we could fly back together with a dog each. We spent that whole flight passing treats across the aisle.

I took my rescue dog to a nice, pet-friendly restaurant. The waiter was rude from the start. So when the bill came I left no tip. She said, “Lady, if you can’t tip, you better eat at home.” When we left, the waiter was watching. She came outside and had the audacity to kneel down on the sidewalk and ask, “Can I say hi to him first? I owe him an apology too.” Then she looked up at me. “I’m sorry. That’s the worst thing I’ve ever said to a customer, and you didn’t deserve it.”

Her name was Karen. She was on hour 13 of a double shift, covering for a coworker, and the table before mine had yelled at her over a cold appetizer. She’d taken it out on the next person, and the next person was me. “I’m not asking for a tip,” she said. “I just couldn’t let you leave thinking that’s who we are.” She pulled out her phone and showed me a photo of a one-eyed beagle named Fig. “Adopted him last spring. The shelter said nobody wanted him.” Moose, who usually hides behind my legs around strangers, leaned his whole weight against her knee.

I’d had my rescue dog for 10 days when I took him to the pet store. He was so scared of the carts and the loudspeaker that he started howling at the register, and I was on the verge of tears while a line built up behind me. A woman with a toddler on her hip and a leash in her other hand came over, crouched next to him, and started shushing and talking to him softly. Without me saying a word, she looked up and said, “We’ve all been here. It’s okay.” I think about her almost every day. My dog is 3 now.

When my husband and I were newly married, poor, and living in a one-bedroom while finishing school, we adopted a shelter dog we couldn’t really afford. We came home one night a few weeks before Christmas and the whole porch was covered in wrapped boxes, a bed, a leash, chew toys, and a 20-pound bag of food. We never found out who did it. Our dog sniffed every box one at a time before he’d let us open any.

In the 80s, I broke down on an interstate late at night with my rescue pup, Gus, in the back seat. It was isolated. I picked up his leash and started walking. I hadn’t gone far when a very young woman with five little kids in a minivan pulled over and offered us a ride. I was never so thankful to see anyone in my life! I figured if there was a safe ride, this was probably it.
The kids were singing and the youngest hugged Gus before I’d even buckled in. I asked why she stopped, and she said she figured it was my car on the side of the road. She took us right to my door. I’ll never forget that, from someone who probably had so much to contend with every day.

My dog was at the emergency vet after he swallowed something he shouldn’t have, and the bill estimate was more than I had. I was sitting in the waiting room when I went to the restroom to have a cry. A stranger squeezed my shoulder for about ten seconds on my way out, and didn’t tell me to cheer up or look on the bright side. It was exactly what I needed. He’s 9 now and still steals socks.

I drive rescue dogs for a transport group on weekends. One Saturday I ran out of gas right at the entrance to a truck stop, with six dogs in crates in my van, around 5pm on a busy day. Drivers honked as they went around me.
A trucker took pity, hooked a tow strap to my bumper, and pulled me to the pumps. I tried to give him $50, all the cash I had. He asked if the dogs were mine. “Not yet,” I said, “They’re heading to their adopters.” He told me to spend it on them and wouldn’t take a dollar. He stopped for me, so I stop for everyone now.

At 34 I’d just bought my first house on my own and adopted a senior dog from the shelter. Then I got laid off, and I was two months behind on the mortgage. A woman I barely knew at work sent me a check with a note saying she’d been about to make her usual yearly donation to the shelter, but she felt I could use it more. She asked me never to speak of it or feel indebted, just to pay it forward when I could.
I don’t think she realized that it saved my house, with Daisy’s bed in it. Thank you, Maryanne. I donate to that shelter every December.

I was sitting outside a café with my shy rescue dog, Moss, who hadn’t taken a treat from a stranger in four months. A little kid, maybe 6, ran past our table and dropped a dog biscuit on the ground in front of him. I heard his mom behind him say, “That was your biscuit!” And he said, “But he didn’t have a biscuit!” Moss ate it, and I did return the leftover half of mine.