HSSW Volunteers Unleashed

Some weeks at the shelter are harder than others.

Not because of one big thing.
But because of all the little things that pile up.

The hard conversations.
The dogs who’ve been waiting too long.
The ones who don’t get better fast enough.
The ones who don’t get better at all.

Some weeks, you find yourself going through the motions—doing the work, walking the dogs, handing out treats, saying “good job, buddy,” and smiling because that’s what the dogs need from you.

But inside, you’re numb.

It’s not because you don’t care.
It’s because you care too much.

And sometimes, when you care that much for that long, your heart protects itself the only way it knows how.
It goes quiet for a while.
It goes still.

That’s what this week felt like for me.

I showed up.
I did the work.
I gave the dogs everything I had.

But I didn’t feel much.

Because loving them—really loving them—hurts sometimes.

And it’s safer, for a moment, to pretend it doesn’t.

But then today, I worked with Hopper.

And Hopper didn’t let me stay numb.

He leaned in with his whole body like he meant it.
He looked at me like I was the best part of his day.
He reminded me what it feels like to laugh again. To feel love in my chest again. To remember why we do this, even when it’s hard.

Especially when it’s hard.

Because that’s the deal, isn’t it?

We open our hearts knowing they’ll break.
We love them knowing it won’t always end the way we want it to.
We give them everything, even when there’s not much left to give.

And we keep showing up.

Because for the dogs, we are the best part of the day.
Sometimes the only part.

And loving them like this?
It asks us to be something bigger than ourselves.
It asks us to be the safe place, the soft landing, the one who says,
“I’ve got you—even when it’s hard.”