I'm so thankful that I live in Central Texas, where countless families support animal rescue, and this passion takes on many forms. I join the collective effort by keeping my home at my own personal level of "max capacity." Meaning, I don't wait. Our much-adored rescue dog, Riley, had just died, and because the shelters were full, I knew that I wanted to make space in my heart quickly for the next dog waiting to find us. The cycle is one of rescue, love, friendship, fun, comfort, and, of course, the heartbreak that comes with the inevitable goodbye. Then, I imagine the faces of all the other "Rileys" who are still waiting for someone to notice them.

This dog's story is a pretty typical one. She was a stray, nameless dog, roaming the streets, and she needed help. Was she discarded? Was she a loved pet who accidentally got out of her family's home? Either way, she was picked up by animal control, entered into the system, and never reclaimed. So there she sat in a kennel, no doubt confused. She was fed, sheltered, and safe, but she couldn't go back to the place she'd started; she could only wait and hope for someone to see her and to say yes.

I found her on an online pet search. The shelter in Temple, Texas, had posted what little they knew about her based on their observations, and I headed out to meet her. They brought her out and my first thought was, "Uh oh." She was much bigger than she had appeared in her picture, and she looked as strong as an ox. They handed me her leash, and I took a deep breath. She pulled me along the grass, barely even looking at me. I held on tight to that wild one's leash—and also to what I knew in my gut: that what I was seeing in that moment was not really her. Her mind was spinning out. Although she received great care from a compassionate staff, she was not "showing well" due to the unavoidable stress of shelter life.

I brought her home, and my husband looked down at her and asked, "What is it?" We've decided she appears to be a mix between basset hound and pit bull, and now we laughingly refer to our gal as our little "Bass-e-Pit." That stray dog became our Rose: our snuggly, funny, joyful, intelligent, patient, silly, Rosie Posie hippo, chubby bunny, total chunk of joy incarnate.

Our rescue dogs' lives are stitched together. Their connected stories become our stories and fill me with peace and purpose. Riley left our hearts open for Rose, and Rose will honor other dogs who come after her, who just need someone to look beyond their confused, stray-dog-in-a-shelter behavior and see them. When we can manage that, the reward of our dogs' love and friendship is simply immeasurable.