A Failed Foster, and the Dogs We Protect

This is Rocky.

silly pup on Christmas Eve smiling

He was the failed foster I came home to during college. I remember walking through the door and seeing a little Jack Russell and beagle mix standing there. We both looked confused at one another, one of us a little more confused, and the other very eager to sniff.

Of course, I loved him immediately, and then I asked the obvious question. Where did this little dog come from?

I have loved dogs for as long as I can remember. Rocky is not where that love started, but he is part of a much longer story.

Growing up, I once brought home a stray I used to feed at a park near our house in Guam. I would take dog food meant for our two dogs at the time, Brownie and Puppy, put it into Tupperware, slip it into my backpack, and walk to the playground to feed her. She was so skinny that she could fit under the grate between the bars of the military base we lived on.

Rocky loves bringing people shoes, a habit I'm unsure how he picked up

One day, after a heavy tropical rain, I ran back to the park immediately. I found her hiding under the playground, soaking wet. My sister and I brought her home and tucked her under our garage. My mom found us there, both of us drenched, sitting beside a trembling stray dog. She let us keep her. She always had a soft spot for animals and never turned one away if it needed help.

We kept Lily until animal control was eventually called after she escaped a few too many times, which is what happens when children care for a stray while both parents are at work. That love for dogs never left me. It simply grew.

So when I asked where Rocky came from, the answer mattered to me.

Rocky had been given up by an older woman who could no longer take care of him as a puppy, but the way we found him was through a special place. My mom and I follow and donate to an organization dedicated to helping animals, especially beagles that have been tested on in laboratories. That is where we first saw his photo, reposted by the nonprofit.

Through them, I learned that beagles are the number one dog breed used in animal testing because of their sweet, trusting, and docile nature. Did that hit a pain point in my family? Absolutely. We have two beagles, and we have rescued other dogs as well. I cannot imagine my life without Rocky, or what his life would have looked like without someone stepping in, and I think often about his brothers and sisters who are still waiting.

Rocky knows no boundaries

Because they are so gentle and loving, it honestly boiled my blood to read that animal testing is still happening in the United States, despite the existence of other options. If you want to help stop animal testing but cannot donate, there is a free app I downloaded that helps identify cruelty-free products while shopping. It allows you to scan items and make sure you are not giving more money to corporations that still fund inhumane testing.

This is not sponsored. In fact, I donate to the organization myself. This is simply me sharing something that matters deeply to me and using my platform to spread awareness. I know this is not my usual baking content, but it is important to me.

Rocky reminds me that love often finds us quietly, sometimes without warning, and always with responsibility. Caring for animals, like caring for people, asks us to pay attention, to choose kindness even when it is inconvenient, and to speak up when something is not right. If his story leads even one person to pause, learn, or make a more informed choice, then sharing this was worth it.

If you want to learn more, support rescue efforts, or make more informed choices, I encourage you to visit Beagle Freedom Project and explore the work they are doing to protect animals like Rocky.

Family picture (we struggled to get Puppy in)