Hey everyone. I’ve never posted here before, so I hope I’m doing this right. I just need to let this out somewhere, and I guess I’m hoping for some advice or maybe just a little comfort. My dog, let’s call him Toby, is one of the sweetest souls I’ve ever known. He’s older, not exactly the flashy pup everyone imagines when they think about adopting. He doesn’t do backflips or have fancy spots or come with an impressive rescue story. He’s just… Toby. And lately, I’ve been feeling like that’s not “special” enough for people to want to take him in.
Let me give a little context. Toby has been with me for a while. I’m not his original owner, but I sort of fell into the role. He belonged to my cousin, who moved out of the country and couldn’t take him along. I was the one who said, “I’ll look after him until you can figure out what to do,” and that was nearly two years ago. My cousin’s situation changed, and now Toby is officially my responsibility. I have to find him a permanent home, because I’m in a tiny apartment that doesn’t allow dogs long-term. My landlord has been gracious, but it’s only a matter of time before I’m asked to move or rehome Toby. So I’ve been reaching out to shelters and rescue groups and anyone who might be able to help me get Toby into a home that’s stable and loving.
Toby’s about eight years old (give or take). He’s got this soulful gaze that will melt your heart if you let it. His fur is a bit patchy in places, partly from a skin allergy he had before he came to me. He’s got a few lumps and bumps that the vet says are benign, and he moves more slowly than the puppies I see zipping around at the park. But let me tell you something: Toby is a champion cuddler. If you’re feeling down, he’ll come over, rest his head on your lap, and just breathe with you until the sadness passes. He loves to eat, but he’s not picky. He’s content with a warm bed, a bowl of food, and a bit of sunshine to bask in during the afternoon.
I’ve tried to get him noticed by potential adopters. I’ve posted pictures on Facebook, Instagram, and other local adoption sites. I’ve even tried to talk to neighbors and coworkers—some have come by to meet him, but it never goes beyond a pat on the head and a polite “Oh, he’s a sweet boy.” Then I hear the same feedback: “He’s just not what I’m looking for,” or “I want a younger dog,” or “I want a dog who can run with me,” or “I’m looking for a purebred.” It’s heartbreaking to hear people dismiss Toby because he’s older, or because he doesn’t have a special trait that stands out.
I’ll be honest: I’m angry sometimes. Toby’s never done anything wrong. He’s never caused a fuss, never hurt anyone, never had a single aggression issue. But the older he gets, the harder it is to find someone who’ll open their heart and home to him. It’s like the world is telling him, “You’re not special enough.” But that’s such a lie. Toby is special in a million small ways that I wish people could see.
Every morning, Toby greets me with a slow wag of his tail—like he’s genuinely happy to be alive for another day. He doesn’t jump or bark or demand anything; he just quietly reminds me that he’s there, ready to face whatever the day brings. When we go for walks, he doesn’t pull or drag me around. He just trots along at his own pace, sniffing every flower and crack in the sidewalk like it’s a brand-new discovery. He doesn’t care about big adventures; he just wants to enjoy the little things. It’s taught me to slow down, to appreciate moments, to see life through his calm, patient eyes.
I can’t lie, though. There are days when I feel like I’m letting him down. My schedule is chaotic, and I worry that Toby isn’t getting the consistent attention he deserves. On top of that, my landlord’s patience is wearing thin, and I can see the writing on the wall: if Toby doesn’t find a new home soon, I might have to make a really hard decision. And that terrifies me. I don’t want Toby to end up in a shelter where he’s stuck in a kennel, overlooked because he’s older and not as flashy. The idea of him spending his last years alone and sad breaks my heart more than I can express.
A few weeks ago, I took Toby to an adoption event at a local rescue. I thought, “This is it. People will see how gentle and friendly he is, and someone will fall in love.” Well, he spent most of the event lying on his bed, quietly watching the world go by. Every now and then, he’d wag his tail when someone approached, but mostly he just observed. Meanwhile, the younger dogs were bounding around, wagging tails like crazy, giving kisses, and capturing everyone’s attention. People would stop to coo over Toby for a moment, but then move on to the puppies or the ones with bright, unique patterns. After two hours, we packed up and went home without a single application or serious inquiry.
That night, I cried. I know it sounds silly, but I just couldn’t help thinking, “What if Toby never gets adopted? What if people keep looking right past him?” And I swear, he could sense I was upset because he came over, rested his chin on my knee, and let out this long, sympathetic sigh. In that moment, I felt like he was comforting me more than I was comforting him. It’s so unfair that a dog who’s capable of that kind of empathy can’t find someone to love him forever.
I’ve posted updates on social media, trying to show Toby’s personality. I’ll share videos of him doing little spins when he’s excited about dinner. I’ll post pictures of him lying in the sun, or gently licking my hand. I try to capture that look he gets when he’s content—like he’s truly at peace. But none of it seems to resonate the way I hope it will. People scroll past, maybe hit “like,” but no one’s stepping up to adopt him.
I guess the real reason I’m posting this is because I’m scared. I’m scared for Toby’s future, and I’m also scared that my situation might force me to do something that will break both our hearts. I don’t want to give up on him. He’s never given up on me. Even on days when I’m exhausted and can barely muster the energy to go for a walk, Toby’s still there, patient as ever, just waiting for me to be ready.
Part of me wonders if I’m doing something wrong. Am I not advertising him enough? Am I focusing too much on his age, rather than highlighting the fact that he’s such a calm, loving presence? Should I be doing more events, more social media posts, more door-to-door flyers? I’m trying so hard, but the reality is, people seem to want younger, cuter dogs. Or dogs with big, unique personalities. Toby’s just Toby—quiet, gentle, old, wise. And apparently, that’s not “special” enough to stand out.
I don’t want to lose hope, though. He deserves a home where he can spend his golden years. He deserves a couch to nap on and a yard to sniff around in. He deserves someone who will look at him and think, “This dog might not be the youngest or the flashiest, but he’s exactly what I’ve been missing.”
There was a glimmer of hope last week when a friend of a friend messaged me, saying they’d seen Toby’s post online and might be interested in meeting him. We scheduled a day for them to come by. I cleaned the apartment, put out Toby’s favorite toys, and tried to get him looking as spiffy as possible. He gave a little wag when they arrived, sniffed their hands, and gently licked their fingers. For a moment, I thought I saw them falling for him. But they mentioned they have a cat and weren’t sure how Toby would do with a cat. Toby’s never been around cats, so I can’t say for sure if he’d chase them or not. In the end, they said they’d “think about it.” That was a week ago, and I haven’t heard back. I’m not giving up, but I’m also trying not to get my hopes up too high.
Some days, I wish I could just keep Toby myself forever. But the reality is, my landlord isn’t going to let me. And I can’t move right now, not with my current job situation. It feels like this impossible puzzle, and Toby’s stuck in the middle, waiting for someone to solve it.
Anyway, I’m rambling at this point. I just wanted to put this out there, to see if anyone else has gone through something similar. Maybe someone has advice on how to highlight an older dog’s best traits. Or maybe you’ve had success with a certain rescue or a certain type of outreach that I haven’t tried yet. I’m open to any and all suggestions. Toby deserves every chance I can give him.
I’ll end this on a positive note, even though it’s not a full resolution yet: I still have faith that Toby’s forever home is out there. Every time I look into his eyes, I know there’s someone out there who will see what I see—a gentle, loving companion who wants nothing more than a soft bed, a full belly, and a human to love. I’m holding onto that hope, and I’m not letting go.
Thanks for reading this far. I’m sorry it’s so long, but I needed to get it off my chest. If anything changes, or if Toby’s situation finally resolves in a happy ending, I promise I’ll update. For now, I’ll keep doing everything I can to help him find a home. I might be just one person, but Toby is just one dog—and I believe we can make this happen, somehow.
So that’s it. That’s where I’m at. Fingers crossed, you know? Maybe tomorrow will bring a phone call or a message from someone who sees Toby the way I do. Maybe that perfect match is right around the corner, just waiting for the chance to meet him. I sure hope so. And until then, Toby and I will be here, wagging our tails and believing that there’s still a little magic left in the world for dogs like him.