An Open Letter to Those Considering Surrendering Their Dog

Every week, our local animal shelter takes in dogs surrendered by their owners. Just last week alone, at least seven were brought in—each accompanied by a different explanation.

The reasons vary:
“We’re moving.”
“We’re getting a divorce.”
“We’re having a baby.”
“I’m working too much.”
“He’s just too wild.”
“She’s not housebroken.”
“He keeps escaping.”
“She doesn’t get along with the cat.”

Sometimes the reasons come cloaked in an attempt to justify the decision: “We think he’ll be better off in a new home,” or “She deserves someone who can give her more time.” But here’s the truth most people don’t want to hear:

With very few exceptions, your dog is better off with you—even if only temporarily until you can responsibly rehome him yourself.

You might think it’s too time-consuming or stressful to find a new home for your dog on your own. But if you think rehoming is difficult now, try doing it once your dog has entered a shelter environment.

Shelters Are Not Safe Havens—They’re a Last Resort

Most dogs do not “show well” in shelters. These aren’t the clean, calm, pet adoption centers you might imagine. They’re loud. Stressful. Overcrowded. And for your dog, they can be terrifying.

Your dog might become withdrawn, anxious, or frantic. His usual sweet personality? Hidden beneath layers of fear, confusion, and sensory overload. He may refuse to eat or cry through the night, surrounded by a chorus of barking dogs. The shelter is not his home. It smells wrong. Sounds wrong. Feels wrong. He doesn’t understand why he’s there, and worse—why you’re not.

If he’s a black dog or a pit bull-type breed—or even just looks like one—his chances of being adopted drop significantly. Add in age, size, or medical issues, and the odds become even bleaker.

Think his beautiful coat will help him stand out? Stress, poor diet, and depression will take care of that in a matter of days. Puppies, you say? That playful energy becomes “too much” when confined to a 3×5 kennel all day. A young dog bouncing off the walls doesn’t come across as “cute”—it comes across as “difficult.”

Potential adopters often spend just a few minutes evaluating a dog. But dogs need time—especially in this environment. They need a chance to decompress, to sniff, to run, to play, to just be dogs. What you see in a shelter isn’t the dog you lived with. It’s a traumatized version of him, lost in confusion and fear.

The First 24 Hours: From Family Member to Inmate

When you surrender your dog, he’s taken from you by a stranger. He doesn’t understand why. He’s vaccinated, dewormed, and led past row after row of strange dogs, each barking, crying, or hiding in fear. Then he’s placed in a cold kennel, the door clicks shut behind him.

There is no soft bed. No toys. No familiar scents. No comforting words. Just a bowl of food, a bowl of water, and the deafening noise of a place filled with heartbreak.

Some dogs curl up in the back of their kennel and shut down, refusing food or interaction. Others scratch and claw at the door in desperation, believing—hoping—you’ll come back. They bark until they lose their voice. They injure themselves trying to escape. And they wait.

And wait.

Hope Dies Slowly

Ask any volunteer or shelter worker, and they’ll tell you: surrendered dogs look for their people. You see it when you take them outside and their eyes lock on every car that pulls into the parking lot.

I’ve seen the tail start to wag. The ears perk up. The entire body buzzes with anticipation. Maybe this is it. Maybe they came back.

And then… the car door opens, and it’s not you.

You can feel the moment hope fades. Their tail drops. Their body slumps. The light dims just a little. That look—the one of crushed faith, of betrayed love—isn’t something you easily forget.

If You Ever Loved Your Dog—Take Responsibility

If you ever loved your dog…
If you ever looked into his eyes and promised to protect him…
Then don’t let your final act be abandonment.

If your circumstances have truly changed and keeping your dog is no longer possible, own your responsibility. That dog trusted you. His well-being—and often his very life—is in your hands.

Instead of surrendering:

• Reach out to rescues and shelters to ask if they offer courtesy listings or can share your rehoming post.

• Talk to friends, family, and coworkers. You never know who might be willing to take in a dog they already know and trust.

• Use social media strategically. Post in local pet rehoming and adoption groups, or contact rescue advocates for help networking.

• Be honest about your dog’s personality, needs, and quirks. A well-matched home comes from transparency, not desperation.

What Your Dog Deserves

Your dog deserves better than to be left behind, confused and alone in a shelter. He deserves a soft landing—a person willing to step up, just like you once did when you brought him home.

Yes, rehoming can be hard. Yes, it takes effort and patience. But it’s your responsibility—not the shelter’s—to see it through. A shelter should be a last resort, not your first stop.

And if there’s any way to keep him—through training, support, or life adjustments—then please, do it. For his sake.

Because to your dog, you are everything. And losing you isn’t just a change in circumstances. It’s a loss he may never recover from.