Before you begin reading, I should warn you that this is long. As a writer, I’ve always had a tendency to be wordy (and moody). In fact, I can practically see the red pens of my former professors and everyone who helped shape my writing hovering over these paragraphs, eliminating unnecessary words, condensing thoughts, and reminding me that sometimes less is more. And perhaps they’re right. But today, I hope they’ll and you’ll forgive me. Because I’ve spent all day trying to find the words to express something that feels impossible to articulate, and even now, I don’t believe I’ve said enough or expressed my thoughts in enough detail. So today, the red pens can stay in their drawers. These lives deserve every single word. And I hope you’ll give them a few minutes of your time to read them. There are five dogs in Austin who could lose their lives tonight. Arlo, Furby, Sweet Pea, Simpson, and Truffle. Five lives. Five individuals. Five beings who have absolutely no understanding that somewhere, someone has decided their time on this earth may be over. As far as I know, Simpson, Arlo, and Furby have no rescue coming for them, the others have possibilities, though not set it stone. At Layla’s Heart Ranch and Rescue, we are desperately working to save Truffle. Not because his life matters more. Not because he is more deserving. But because his circumstances require a very particular kind of placement, and we are one of the very few rescues, if not the only one, capable of providing what he needs. And I cannot stop thinking about the others. How do we choose? How do we look into the eyes of one dog and say, “You deserve to live,” and look into the eyes of another and accept that they will die? How did we ever arrive at a place where this is a question we have to ask? I wish I knew how to make people care. Not the people who are already fighting alongside us. Not the rescuers, advocates, volunteers, and donors who are giving everything they have and more. I mean the people who look away. The people who scroll past. The people who have become so accustomed to animals dying in shelters that it no longer disturbs them. How do you make someone understand the value of a life when they have already decided it isn’t worth their attention? These are living, breathing, feeling beings. These are LIVES. They experience fear. They seek comfort. They form bonds. They trust. They love. They want to live. And their lives are being taken from them. Stolen. We have created language that makes this reality easier to accept. We call it humane euthanasia. We call it a necessary decision. We call it an unfortunate consequence of overcrowding. But when an animal who could have a future is killed because there wasn’t enough time, enough space, enough cooperation, or enough willingness to find another solution, I cannot call that mercy. This isn’t mercy. This isn’t humane. This is killing. And I am tired of being expected to make that truth sound less uncomfortable. We do what we can. We do more than we realistically can. We give pieces of ourselves that we don’t have left to give, because somewhere there is another animal whose life depends on someone refusing to give up. And still, it isn’t enough. It’s never enough. There is always another deadline. Another desperate plea. Another animal whose future depends on whether someone can accomplish the nearly impossible in mere hours. I cannot adequately describe the emotional warfare of being told that a life will end unless you can find the money, the space, the people, and the resources to save it before a deadline expires. Shelters call us rescue partners. Then let us actually be partners. Let us work together to find solutions where dogs get to live, rather than placing impossible deadlines and the weight of life and death decisions on rescues already stretched beyond their limits. We cannot call one another partners while operating as adversaries.

I’m trying to condense my writing because I know people are more likely to read a shorter post. But how do you condense something when every part of it matters? Five dogs at Austin Animal Services are scheduled to be killed tomorrow if rescue is not found. Truffle, Sweet Pea, Arlo, Furby, and Simpson. Their lives will be over. Permanently. How do I leave out Sweet Pea, a senior dog who was considered adoptable just a couple of weeks ago? A dog described as a staff and volunteer favorite, with ZERO reported behavioral issues and ZERO bite history. She simply needs to be the only dog in her home. Yet now she is scheduled to die, even though the shelter isn’t full or over capacity. How does a dog go from being considered adoptable, loved by the staff and volunteers who know her, to being placed on a euthanasia list in a matter of weeks? What changed? Why is her life suddenly considered expendable? If you have no other pets and would be willing to foster Sweet Pea, PLEASE reach out to us. You could be the reason she gets to live. How do I leave out Arlo, a German Shepherd who bit his owner after years in the same home, whose request for a comprehensive medical evaluation was reportedly refused? Or Jagger, whom we recently rescued after advocating for proper medical care, only to discover he did, in fact, have medical problems? How do I leave out Furby, Simpson, or Truffle, whose lives matter every bit as much? How do I explain that shelters with multimillion dollar budgets are giving small rescues 48 hours to accomplish what those institutions will not, while we’re trying to do it with resources on a shoestring? How do I explain the emotional warfare of watching these lists appear again and again, knowing that next month there will be another list, and another after that? I keep thinking about an Etch A Sketch. Write the dogs’ names across the screen, give them 48 hours, and when the deadline passes, shake it. The names disappear, the screen is blank, and another list takes their place. The dogs who died are quickly forgotten while everyone scrambles to save the next group. But these were lives. Not names to be erased. So how do I make this short when none of it is small? We saved Jagger. Now we’re desperately trying to save Truffle, and we need to raise $20,000 for two sanctuary houses, each with its own private yard. These houses will continue providing refuge for other dogs for years to come, long after Jagger and Truffle no longer need them. Please donate whatever you can and share our GoFundMe. If you can foster Sweet Pea, contact us. If you know someone who might be able to help any of these five dogs, please reach out. Help us help them. We cannot do this alone. GoFundMe: gofund.me/593d7e055 Donate: linktr.ee/laylasheartrandr #laylasheartranchandrescue #dogrescue #animalsanctuary #beingkindiscool #charity

JAGGER’S FIRST UPDATE: THIS IS WHY WE ADVOCATE. It is long. I know I tend to ramble, but I want yo ensure I get all of the pertinent information out there. Yesterday, Jagger officially walked out of AAS alive and was immediately transported to Cypress Creek Animal Hospital for a thorough medical evaluation. And what the veterinarian discovered is exactly why we advocate so fiercely for proper medical and behavioral evaluations before a decision is made to end a dog’s life. First, Jagger is likely not 1 year and 8 months old, as his shelter paperwork indicated. Based on age-related changes to the lenses of his eyes, the veterinarian believes he is more likely 6–7 years old. He also has an old, broken canine tooth and significantly worn-down teeth. But that wasn’t all. Jagger has at least TWO, yes TWO separate infections that we now know of at this time. First, he has a deep ear infection. When the veterinarian cleaned his ear, she discovered it was full of bacteria and full of yeast. She explained that the infection appeared to have been present for quite some time and that his ear would be extremely sensitive and painful. Separately, Jagger has an infection involving his nose and nostril, along with severe dryness of his nose. We are talking about a dog who has been living with multiple medical conditions, including at least two active infections, one of which appears to have been present for a significant amount of time. And this is a dog who has been sitting in a shelter since March 2026, facing death with these medical concerns. His fecal examination came back negative, which is good news! His bloodwork, urinalysis, and heartworm test were sent out yesterday, and we are awaiting those results. He has begun treatment for his infections, and we will continue monitoring him closely. And I want to be very clear about something. I find this absolutely unacceptable. We are talking about a municipal animal shelter operating with a multimillion dollar annual budget. Yet Jagger, who had been in its care since March, left that shelter with at least two separate infections, including a deep ear infection that the veterinarian believes had been present for quite some time. How does a dog remain in the care of a well funded shelter for months with medical conditions like these that have not been adequately addressed? And I want to address something before it is offered as an explanation. I do not want to hear that Jagger’s behavioral history made it impossible for him to receive appropriate medical evaluation and treatment. That is not an acceptable justification. There are shelters in the surrounding area that utilize vet supervised sedation when necessary to safely examine and treat animals who cannot otherwise tolerate handling. Behavioral challenges do not eliminate an animal’s need for medical care, nor do they absolve a shelter of its responsibility to make reasonable efforts to provide that care. Furthermore, Jagger was regularly taken out by shelter volunteers and staff members for months without reported behavioral incidents during those interactions. This was not a dog who could never be approached or interacted with. And even if he had been, that would not make his medical needs any less important. A bite history is not a justification for withholding necessary veterinary care. And a behavioral designation should never become a reason to overlook an animal’s suffering. Shelters have a responsibility to provide appropriate medical care, particularly when untreated pain and illness may contribute to the very behavioral concerns being used to justify ending an animal’s life. Adequate veterinary care should not be something a dog finally receives only after a rescue organization steps in to save them from euthanasia. So, you might be asking how is Jagger doing today? Yesterday was incredibly difficult for him. Between leaving the shelter, being transported, undergoing a vet examination, and adjusting

JAGGER IS SAFE! JAGGER IS ALIVE! AND IT’S $5 FRIDAY! We are incredibly happy to announce that Layla’s Heart Ranch and Rescue has officially pulled Jagger from Austin Animal Services, saving his life. Today, Jagger gets something every dog deserves. A chance. We want to extend our heartfelt gratitude to Final Frontier Rescue Project for stepping up to pick Jagger up on our behalf and transport him directly to his veterinary appointment. Jagger is on his way to Cypress Creek Animal Hospital as we speak, where he is scheduled to be seen at 1:45 PM for a thorough medical evaluation. Following his appointment, Jagger will head to our wonderful friends at Utopia Dog Haven, where he will have the opportunity to decompress, adjust to life outside the shelter, and undergo thoughtful behavioral observation and evaluation in a safe, supportive environment. And then? We will let Jagger tell us what he needs. Perhaps he will be a wonderful candidate for a foster home and eventually adoption. Perhaps he will need additional time to decompress and build confidence. Or perhaps we will determine that sanctuary is the safest and most appropriate long term option for him. We are not going to rush that decision. And I want to explain why, because I think there is an important misconception in animal rescue that getting a dog into a foster or adoptive home as quickly as possible is always the best outcome. And it’s not always. Our goal at LHRR has always been to help dogs find loving homes whenever possible. But we are also a sanctuary. We provide lifelong care for dogs who may be more challenging to place, require specialized management, or simply need a permanent safe haven. And we believe there is tremendous value in both. Jagger has a documented bite history. We do not dismiss that. We do not minimize it. And we certainly do not believe that loving a dog means ignoring the potential risks associated with his behavior. But we also recognize that wecannot reasonably expect to understand who a dog truly is when we have only observed who he has become while trying to cope with an environment that may be overwhelming him. Imagine spending months confined to a small kennel in a loud, stressful shelter environment. Imagine having very little control over your surroundings, limited opportunities to decompress, and potentially experiencing pain or discomfort that has not been fully identified. Now imagine being taken directly from that environment and placed into an unfamiliar home with unfamiliar people (even familiar people), new expectations, new routines, and new stressors. For some dogs, that transition goes beautifully. For others, particularly dogs already struggling with fear, stress, handling sensitivities, or a bite history, it can be overwhelming. And when those dogs are placed into homes before their needs and risks have been adequately assessed, the consequences can be devastating. A foster or adopter could be injured. The dog could bite again. The rescue could face serious liability. And perhaps most tragically, that dog could find himself facing another kill decision, with even fewer options than before. Or everything could go beautifully and be fine. But nothing is guaranteed. We did not fight this hard to save Jagger’s life only to place him in a situation that could jeopardize it again. That is why proper medical care, decompression, behavioral observation, and thoughtful placement planning matter so much. They are not obstacles to adoption. They are safeguards that help make successful, lasting placements possible. They protect the dog. They protect the people who open their homes. They protect the community. And they protect the dog’s future. No evaluation can predict every behavior, and no amount of decompression eliminates every risk. But we can make informed, responsible decisions rather than rushing a dog into a situation for which he may not be ready.

A couple of days ago, we noticed something wasn’t right with Kringle. One side of his face had started to droop. And when you love a dog with a history of hemangiosarcoma, your mind immediately goes to places you don’t want it to go. So today, Kringle went to the vet. The good news is that he has bilateral ear infections, and everything else they could evaluate today looked good. His thyroid was also tested because thyroid issues can sometimes cause facial paralysis, and his thyroid was normal. Could this still be something more serious? Yes. A brain tumor or another neurological problem cannot be completely ruled out without advanced imaging such as a CT or MRI. But right now, our veterinarian feels comfortable treating the ear infections first and watching closely to see whether the facial drooping improves. And Kringle? Kringle is still Kringle. He is eating and drinking. He is playing. He is happy. In fact, this supposedly “dangerous” dog spent part of his veterinary appointment rolling around asking the veterinarian and vet techs for belly rubs. And I need people to understand why that matters. Kringle has a bite history. There were people who believed he could never safely live in a home. People who believed his history defined what his future should be. Kringle has now been with us for FIVE YEARS. Five years of being loved. Five years of learning and growing. Five years of belly rubs and ridiculous antics. Five years of joy. Five years of showing us exactly who he is. And this dog is the reason Layla’s Heart Ranch and Rescue exists. Because of Kringle, I learned firsthand what can happen when someone looks beyond a bite history. Because of Kringle, an entire rescue was born. And because that rescue was born, more than 300 animals have been saved. Think about that. One dog whom some people believed (and seeing from comments on our post about Jagger, probably still believe) he wasn’t worth the risk became the reason hundreds of other animals got another chance at life. Kringle is creeping up on 10 years old now. My boy with the lion eyes. Those beautiful golden eyes that have looked at me for five years. The eyes of the dog who changed the entire direction of my life without ever knowing he was doing it. And my God, is this boy loved. Loved, loved, loved, loved, LOVED. He is joyful. He is goofy. He is affectionate. He is complicated. He is imperfect. He is an individual. And he is so much more than something written in his history five years ago. Kringle is proof of something I will continue saying for as long as I do this work: A dog with a bite history is not automatically a dangerous dog. A bite history should not automatically become a death sentence. Dogs deserve to be evaluated as individuals, not reduced to a label, a shelter note, an incident report, or the worst moment of their lives. Kringle was given that chance. More than 300 animals are alive because he was. For now, we are treating his ears, watching that handsome face very closely, and hoping with everything we have that this is something treatable. Whatever comes next, Kringle will face it surrounded by the people who have loved him for the last five years. My boy with the lion eyes changed my life. And changed the lives of so many others. He built a rescue without ever knowing it. And he will never, ever have to wonder whether he is loved. If you would like to donate to his vet visit today we would be beyond grateful! Donate: linktr.ee/laylasheartrandr #laylasheartranchandrescue #dogrescue #animalsanctuary #beingkindiscool #pitbull

JAGGER HAS UNTIL 5 PM TOMORROW. I need people to understand what that actually means. At 5 PM tomorrow, Austin Animal Services can end Jagger’s life. And once they do, he is dead. I know that sounds harsh. It is harsh. But I think sometimes we use words like “euthanasia” and “deadline” so often in rescue that we become numb to what they actually mean. This is a living, breathing animal. And if his life is ended tomorrow, there is no undoing it. No more breathing. No more sunshine. No more rolling in the grass. No more walks. No more treats. No more wagging his tail. No more possibility of finding a family. No more chance to show us who he could be outside of a shelter. No more anything. Dead. That is permanent. And when the decision is THAT permanent, Jagger deserves every bit of due process, every appropriate evaluation and every reasonable alternative before his life is taken from him. Jagger has had two recent bite incidents. I am not dismissing that. Bites matter. Public safety matters. But so does context. Both incidents reportedly involved Jagger being touched or petted around his neck and ears. He has demonstrated touch sensitivity in those areas. So WHY? Is he in pain? Is there an ear problem? Is there an injury or another underlying medical issue? Has pain been thoroughly ruled out? Shouldn’t those questions be answered before his life is ended? And then there is something I desperately wish more people understood about shelter dogs: A dog in a shelter is not necessarily the same dog you will see outside of that shelter. We know this firsthand. At Layla’s Heart Ranch and Rescue, we have many dogs who came from Austin Animal Services who were set to be killed. We also have many dogs who came to us from other shelters with behavioral concerns, bite histories, “stranger danger,” or other labels that made them difficult for shelters to place. And so many of those dogs are completely different outside of the shelter. They decompress. They learn a routine. They learn who their people are. They run. They play. They roll in the grass. They sleep peacefully. They form relationships. They learn to trust. They thrive. They can live happy lives. They can live SAFE lives. We have dogs here who were considered incredibly difficult in shelter environments who have never bitten us. That doesn’t mean every dog is the same. It doesn’t mean every behavioral concern disappears the moment a dog leaves a shelter. And it certainly doesn’t mean precautions, proper placement, training and management aren’t important. It means the environment matters. Shelters are incredibly stressful places. They are loud. Dogs are barking constantly. There are unfamiliar people, unfamiliar animals, strange smells, confinement, overstimulation and very little control over anything happening around them. Some dogs cope. Some dogs don’t. Jagger has been living in that environment for eight months. Eight months. And now behavior exhibited inside that environment may determine whether he gets to continue living at all. That should matter to every single one of us. The shelter’s own recent notes describe Jagger going for a long walk, exploring, approaching people for pets, being leashed again, returning to his kennel and allowing the leash to be removed without issue. And they described him as: “nervous, otherwise, sweet boy.” I cannot tell you exactly who Jagger would become outside of the shelter. Nobody can. But I CAN tell you that I have watched dogs who were deemed problems in shelters walk through our gates and become dogs who are happy, loved, manageable and safe. I have seen what a second chance can do. Jagger deserves the opportunity for qualified professionals to determine whether he can have that second chance too. This is not a game. This isn’t just another name on a list. This is life or death. And I refuse to become complacent about the taking of a life. If Austin Animal Services is going to…