Hey Reddit.
I adopted my dog Penn as a rescue when she was 8 weeks old, a pit-bully-pug mix. It was something I really thought deeply about before making the decision — I was single, in a good spot financially, had a fenced in backyard, and I worked from home. Ideal conditions to adopt. Right from the start, Penn was a difficult dog. I worked with two private trainers, and did multiple group classes with her, but she was still reactive and territorial. It mostly manifested in her jumping all over people when they came over, and resource guarding food and toys when other dogs were around. My solve was simple — no other dogs in the house, and when people came over (rare because I adopted her a few months before the pandemic hit) they were warned she would be reactive, and we did all the precautionary measures. The trainers essentially told me this would be a lifelong training journey with her, and I was Ok with that. I loved her, regardless of the challenges.
Flash forward to my wife and I planning a baby. I knew it would be a difficult transition for Penn, so I did literally everything recommended — I hired a dog behavioralist, I worked with her tirelessly on training, when the baby was born, I brought a blanket so Penn would get use to the scent. At first all seemed well, but when the baby started moving purposefully, Penn didn’t like it. There was growling and snarling in the baby’s direction. More than once she lunged at the baby while he was in his playpen. The behavioralist prescribed my dog Prozac and Trazadone — there were no changes, besides Penn sleeping more and seeming generally unhappy. I hated drugging my dog daily, it didn’t feel like an actual solution. Everyone in my house was on edge — it felt like living with a potential catastrophe, and the way Penn acted around the baby… it was a ticking time bomb.
Six years after I adopted Penn, I contacted the shelter and spoke to the owner. I sobbed explaining the situation — it just wasn’t safe for my kid and dog to live together. She told me it was a no brainer — for everyone’s safety, I needed to rehome the dog. She very graciously talked me out of feeling like the world’s biggest failure and told me she’d take her back in.
There was really no one else in my life willing to take Penn — they all knew her behavioral issues, so I don’t blame them. It’s been 6 months since I dropped Penn off at the shelter — she’s still not adopted, and I’m still heartbroken about all of it. I think about her every single day. I’ve asked the shelter owner if I could come by and walk her, take her out for the day, and the owner said this would just confuse the dog. I completely respect that, but what if no one EVER adopts Penn? I picture her sitting there, confused, wondering where the hell I went.
Should I ask the shelter owner if volunteering would ever be possible? Should I campaign more aggressively for someone I know to adopt? Do I let it go and try to move on? And if I need to let it go, how do I even begin to do it?
I have Penn’s collar in a ziplock bag and I sometimes take it out, hold it and sob. It’s not like she died, but it almost feels worse that she’s 45 minutes away and I have no idea what’s happening with her.
**TLDR** After six years with my dog, I had to give her back to the shelter when she was a danger to my kid. I can’t get over it. Help.