Gracie’s Story: Learning to Trust Again
Pregnant. Alone. Abandoned.
Gracie (originally known as Pumba) was found on the streets of Saskatchewan, SK. A rescue group took her in just in time for her to give birth to seven healthy puppies. All of them were adopted quickly. But when it came time for Gracie to find her forever home, the story took a heartbreaking turn.
She was adopted by a family and returned to the shelter within 12 hours. They said she wasn’t playful enough and wanted a dog that was going to interact with the kids more. They never even gave her a chance.
That rejection stayed with her.
When I met Gracie, I immediately felt her energy: withdrawn, distant, wary and scared to trust. She avoided eye contact. She growled at me and hid in her kennel. She had the look of someone who had been hurt more by people than helped by them. I brought her home anyway because I knew in my soul she needed me. Not to be fixed but for someone to show her love, patience, and a person who wouldn’t give up on her.
The journey wasn’t easy and honestly, it was way harder than I could have imagined.
Gracie spent the first 19 hours inside her crate, refusing to come out. When she finally did, she tried to escape and wouldn’t let me come near her. I remember calling my Mom thinking “what have I got myself into”. She snarled and bared her teeth at me. She didn’t want anyone close to her let alone any kind of affection. She didn’t trust kindness. Was food aggressive and had a massive dislike for men, sunglasses, hats, loud noises, bikes, basically anything that seemed like a threat. Every move was met with caution, every step forward undone by fear.
Over the next six months, something beautiful happened. The patience started to pay off and Gracie began to experience life as a dog who wasn’t in survival mode anymore. She learned how to play with toys and trusted that hand that fed her. She started to follow me around the house and became my shadow. Slowly, at her own pace, she transformed into the dog she was always meant to be.
Five years later, Gracie lives with me full-time in Mexico. She runs free, takes her tanning time very seriously, has welcomed many dogs and cats into the home and knows without a doubt that she is finally safe, finally home, and endlessly loved.
Gracie didn’t need a perfect home. She just needed a chance. And someone to say, “I see you. I’m not leaving.”
Every hard day was worth it. As much as I’d like to believe that I saved Gracie, I think she was the one who saved me.
“Love isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it’s just staying until they’re ready to believe in it.”