04/05/2026
The leash was already clipped to the little Border Collie’s harness. We were halfway down the hallway to the lobby, ready to take him home for a two-week foster stint.
But Gus hit the brakes. He completely pancaked on the floor, agile paws stretched out, and let out soft little whines, staring back toward the kennels.
I walked back to see what he was looking at. In the back of kennel #14 was his sister, Gracie. She was a Border Collie too, but her coat had a few uneven patches and faint scars from an old injury that made her look a little “different.” In a busy rescue, that’s a tough sell. People usually look for the most energetic, picture-perfect pups. One glance at an “imperfect” face, and they move on.
The staff told me they had to separate them to make room for new rescues. Gus had a temporary ticket out; Gracie was staying behind.
When Gracie saw Gus in the hallway, she pressed her soft face against the gate, her tail giving a slow, hopeful wag. Gus stepped closer and touched noses with her through the bars. My chest tightened. You don’t separate bonded siblings. These little hearts only know each other.
I looked at the volunteer, handed over my card, and said softly, “Go get the other harness.”
We failed as fosters on day one. We are officially a two–Border Collie household, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Happy Gotcha Day to my beautiful, imperfect babies. 🥺🖇️
