He was the last dog left from a rescue of fifty
I came to the shelter looking for a dog who could live peacefully with my two cats.
The shelter director asked me—actually, she pleaded with me—to consider a hound named Finn. As we walked down the aisle of kennels with barking dogs, she told me he was gentle with all animals and the only one among the fifty rescues from Alabama who hadn’t been adopted. He had arrived a year ago.
When we reached his kennel, Finn was sitting alone, hunkered down, while the larger dogs housed with him barked and played together nearby.
The director called to Finn. He walked toward us hesitantly, looking left and right as if wondering whether she might be calling another dog.
Crouching down, I extended my hand toward him. He sniffed it cautiously and then leaned my hand as I pet him.
Then Finn began to dance.
He hopped in place, lifting one front foot and then the other, and rocked between his front and back legs like a child on a rocking horse. Sometimes he moved in a circle, always to the left, and sometimes he fell over.
The director said that people laughed and pointed when he danced, and then they moved on. They wanted to adopt a more normal dog.
I saw a shy dog trying hard to be noticed. I nodded to the director.
Smiling broadly, she suggested we visit one of the cat rooms with Finn. While I stood at the door, she picked up Finn and placed him among several cats. Two of them rubbed against him and he nuzzled them. One cat walked under him, twice.
I took him outside to the play yard. Finn stretched out on the warm grass and rolled on his back. As I stroked him he looked at me with such gentleness.
As I was filling out the adoption paperwork, the director told me more.
Finn was rescued as a puppy along with others from a dreadful situation in Alabama. A woman sold purebred puppies via a polished website. Behind the scenes, she kept 300 neglected dogs confined in crates outdoors. Finn spent his first four months in a crate so small the only movements he could make were rocking back and forth between his front and back legs and doing his three-legged hop.
Then distemper swept through, killing several of the dogs. Finn lived, although some of his motor skills were damaged—hence his circling, his losing balance and falling over.
The woman was eventually arrested, prosecuted, and served jail time—a rarity in animal cruelty cases. The dogs were rescued and one by one found homes. Finn did not, until that day.
Finn came home with me and stood in the living room in a patch of sunlight. He looked around, curious, and watched the cats. They sensed his kindness and were unafraid.
Then he came to me, looked up, and licked my hand gingerly. I looked into his eyes and we held each other’s gaze. I stroked him slowly from his head to tail.
Finn sighed, circled, lay down beside me, and closed his eyes.
Compassion in Action:
See the Individual
Every animal is more than their history or their body. Spend a few quiet minutes with an animal others overlook. Connection often reveals what first impressions hide.
Ask One More Question
When visiting a shelter, ask staff: “Who has been here the longest?” or “Who gets overlooked?” That single question can introduce you to an animal like Finn—a sweet soul waiting for recognition.
Untold Animal Stories 