Having been in the sheltering and rescue world for a bit now, I’ve had many feelings about the term “forever home.” I’ve seen families doing everything they can, only to find themselves in circumstances they never expected. I’ve seen people come into the shelter utterly heartbroken, saying goodbye to a beloved pet. Life changes, sometimes abruptly, and not always in ways we can prepare for.
Despite witnessing all of this, I always believed I would be a permanent home for my pets. I mean, I’m a trainer—I preach management all day long. My house is full of gates and enrichment and carefully structured flow that, in my mind, keeps everyone thriving. Right?
Enter my beloved “little hog,” Jazzy—the jazzinator, jazzalicious, jazz cabbage, world-champion roller and sun-bather. She came from a loving family who, like so many, were hit by a housing crisis. Every option within their budget came with strict breed restrictions, and they found themselves cornered. They were devastated. They had just invested their savings to start a new business and had assumed housing in their new town would be a breeze.
A screenshot of Jazz came through our group text thread—she’d been courtesy-listed through our amazing partners at Lander Pet Connection—and the moment I saw her, it was one of those “that’s my dog” moments. Two days later, we were driving to Dubois to pick her up. It was love at first tail wag and little pittie honk. She immediately barreled right into our hearts. Her owner cried as he told me all her favorite things—how she likes her hips massaged, the adventures she’d had as a puppy, how she slept with the kids. It was so clear how deeply loved she was, and I felt honored to be the next chapter in her story.
On the drive home, Jazz rested her big, heavy head on my shoulder to look out the window. I held my hand under her chin as I told her, “Don’t worry, I’ll always hold your head up, sweet girl.”
When we got home, my heart filled watching the girls twirl and race across the yard together. They spent their days sunbathing and patrolling the perimeter—we would often narrate, “Sisters on the South Gate!” They were yin to each other’s yang: Athena, my wild spirited little husky, and Jazz, a giant, happy ball of sunshine who filled our home with chirps, honks, and excited woo-woos. Man, I love her so.
Then came late October, and our world shifted. My little husky, Athena, began having seizures, and unfortunately, a very common reaction for other dogs is to go after a seizing dog. Those hardwired instincts to get rid of the abnormal or sick are deeply rooted, and Jazz just really wanted to make the “scary shakes,” as we called them, stop. I went straight into trainer mode. Gates went up. The girls were separated anytime we left. Every interaction—from play to couch hangs—became supervised. I was hyper-vigilant, trying to keep Athena safe while still giving Jazz a full, happy life. But the incredibly frustrating thing about seizures is how unpredictable they are: at first, they were a week and a half apart, then a week, then five days, then back-to-back. I couldn’t keep up.
My partner was quicker to look to me and say, “this isn’t sustainable, we can’t keep doing this.” But I didn’t want to give up on either of them. What if I can train Jazz to be a detection dog and alert me instead of reacting and attacking?! But time is not forgiving and I just didn’t have the time to do that. It got to a point where it just wasn’t safe or fair to either of them. They loved each other at all other moments of the day…WHY must my dog be seizing? It broke my heart, shattered it really, when I had to accept that I needed to let go of Jazz.
I went to Aska heavy hearted knowing but not wanting to know what to do. She reminded me, “This isn’t a Jazz problem—it’s an Athena-having-seizures problem. The circumstances you got Jazzy under have changed, but that doesn’t make you a failure.”
Still, the thought of rehoming Jazz at 10 years old crushed me. Working in the shelter world, I knew how hard it could be to place a senior. My sweet, silly little ham sandwich.
I started by contacting her original owners, thinking it was a long shot. I assumed nothing had changed for them in the nine months since I adopted her. But I wanted them to know, and maybe they’d have family who could take her in. My heart was heavy making that call. How do I explain something like this?
When her owner picked up, I told him everything—heartbreak and all. To my surprise, their family situation had shifted, and he was now able to take her back. He was sad to hear about what had happened but to hear how excited he was to be getting his girl back made the crack in my heart mend a little. Over the next few days, we coordinated and texted. He told me how much he had missed her and how excited he was to show her their new town.
I spent those days taking Jazz to all her favorite spots, soaking up every moment. As we drove to meet her dad, I still just couldn’t imagine her not being mine…but as we rounded into his parking lot and Jazz began to excitedly whine and jump from front seat to back seat, I knew this is where she was meant to be. As soon as I opened the door, she leapt out of the car and ran right to him, nearly knocking him over with a face full of kisses. She was home. A full-circle moment—back to her dad of nine years.
I miss her every day. I miss her chirps and her heavy head on my shoulder. But I’m grateful to have been part of her world, even if just as her bridge back to where she belonged.
There can be so much judgment around rehoming, but sometimes life changes and it is the hard decision we have to make. To anyone who’s had to make the impossible choice to rehome a beloved pet: I see you. I know how heavy it is. But sometimes love looks like letting go. And sometimes “forever” means being part of a dog’s story—even if not the final chapter.
Sam’s lifelong passion for animals led her from studying wildlife ecology at the University of Nevada, Reno to hands-on work with raptors, rescue animals, and pets in veterinary care. After earning her CPDT-KA certification, she now serves as the Canine Behavior and Enrichment Manager at Aska’s Animals, helping dogs—and the people who love them—through positive, science-based training.
