Thirteen years ago, I got a call asking if I could foster a two-year-old female Labrador Retriever rescued from an Amish puppy mill. She was living in a barn, hadn’t been spayed, and needed a place to land. I said Yes, even though I was leaving for vacation in a few days. The rescue kindly arranged for her to stay at a boarding kennel until I returned.
When I arrived to pick her up, the kennel staff had just given her a much-needed bath. She had arrive covered in feces and urine, smelling every bit like the barn she came from. But when I saw her-this tiny little “pocket Lab” with short legs and a sweet face- I couldn’t believe how adorable she was. Her name was Sunshine.
I knelt down to greet her, started talking gently, and her little tail wagged cautiously. She walked up to me, and the moment I reached out to pet her, she melted into my body. Right then and there, I felt something shift.
As I helped her out of the car at home, she took a couple of steps and I heard a clicking sound in her back leg. My heart sank. I thought, Here we go….But I had no idea what kind of journey this little dog had in store for me.
The Weight of Her Past
Sunny didn’t come with much of a history, but what I learned broke my heart. When the farmer handed her over to the rescue volunteer, he dragged her out of the barn on her belly with a rope around her neck because she wouldn’t walk. That single act told me everything I needed to know: she hadn’t been treated with love, respect, or kindness.
So here I was with a frightened, under socialized dog, suffering from what would turn out to be a torn ACL, and she had chosen me to help prepare her for a new life. Healing Inside and Out
Over the next two months, Sunny had multiple baths, underwent surgery to repair her knee, and began meeting new people, dogs, and even cats. What I discovered was a dog with a heart full of resilience. she love everyone, was eager o learn, and never left my side. Everyone kept teasing me, saying, “She’s not going anywhere. You’re going to keep her.” And each time I’d laugh and insist, “She’s going tomake someone very happy. She’s not staying.” As a Behavior Consultant, I had a habit of keeping the more difficult-to-adopt dogs, but Sunny? She was easy to place. Sweet, affectionate, trainable. Perfect for a family. I continued her training, helped her gain confidence, and once her leg healed, it was time to get her spayed. After that, she’d be ready for her forever home.
A Forever Kind of Bond
That’s when I started to question everything. Sunny had been with me for nearly 4 months by that point. Part of her post-surgery care included icing her leg a few times a day. We had this routine where I’d sit in my oversized chair, she’d come up beside me, rest her head on my chest, and I’d gently ice her knee. We’d wrap up in a blanket and nap together like that-her whole body melted into mine like a warm, weighted blanket. It was in those quiet moments that I realized: she wasn’t going anywhere. Sunny had already found her home. And in a way I didn’t expect, she had rescued me just as much as I had rescued her.
Next 13 Years
Over the next 13 years, Sunny became not just my dog, but my teacher, my partner, my healer, my best friend-my heart. She taught me many things, but if I had to choose the most important, it would be forgiveness and the poser of letting go. Despite being treated horribly her first two years-neglected, undersocialized, dragged from a barn by a rope around her neck-Sunny still loved people. They scared her at first, sure, but she wanted to trust. And when she did she gave her love freely.
I also discovered that she was a natural caretaker. One Sunday, before I’d officially decided to keep her, I woke up to find her fur brother-a big-five-year-old male Lab-whimpering. He’d injured his back and couldn’t stand. I laid out a carpet on our bare floor to make him more comfortable while we waited for the vet’s office to open. And as I sat beside him, Sunny quietly began collecting every stuffed toy in the house, laying them one by one beside him. When she had gathered the all, she lay next to him and didn’t move until it was time to go. She did that for every scared or injured foster dog that came through our doors. She took care of them. Sunny may have been born to be bred, but life had other plans. She wasn’t here to produce puppies-she was here to mother the world.
Spreading Love, One Heart at a Time
As the years passed, I got her certified as a therapy dog. We visited nursing homes and schools, always bringing joy to those who needed it most. Twice a month, we volunteered at a woman’s crisis shelter. Many of the women and children there had to leave their dogs behind when they fled dangerous situations. Suny became their comfort-a soft, wagging reminder that love still existed.
One Day, I brought Sunny to an expo where I was scheduled to give a training demonstration. She was simply meant to sand by my side and assist. But God had other plans. In the middle of the crowd, a young boy with autism crumpled to the ground, overwhelmed and screaming by the noise and unable to process the chaos around him. His father looked helpless. I stopped what I was doing and gently brought Sunny over. She quietly sat beside the boy, who was curled in a fetal position, refusing to make eye contact. I asked if I could speak to him, and his dad nodded. I knelt beside him and said, “Don’t look up. This is Sunshine. She’s here to help you. If you want, you can pet her ears-they’re really soft.” Without lifting his head, the boy reached out and began petting her. The tension melted from his body. Slowly a small smile appeared. I asked if he’d like to walk her over to the chairs. He nodded. Together, we walked through the crowd-his head still down, but his spirit lifted. The look of relief on his father’s face said everything. Sunny had done what no one else could in that moment. Her job was done.
My little Sunny Bunny
Over the years, the stories just kept coming. Some stand out more then others. A nursing home visit where I recognized a woman from church. She could no longer walk, but her eyes lit up when she saw Sunny. Week after week, we returned. Though therapy dogs, of Sunny’s size, aren’t usually allowed on beds, I let Sunny climb up beside her. The woman cried tears of joy each time, grateful just to have a dog beside her again.
A Gentle Goodbye
About a year ago, I began to feel Sunny’s time was coming. She was aging-her sight and hearing fading, her world shrinking. She no longer wanted to leave the house, trembling even at the garage door. I prayed that I’d know when.
Two weeks ago, in the middle of the night, I awoke to find her disoriented. I thought it might be a flare-up of her vestibular disease, which mimics stroke symptoms. I laid next to her, my hand on her side, and styed with her until sunrise. But as the light came through the window, I knew. This was different.
We arranged for in-home euthanasia to arrive within a few hours. About 30 minutes before the vet arrived, Sunny began to recognize our faces. Her tail wagged. She had come back to say goodbye.
The veterinarian-a kind, compassionate soul-told us that sometimes dogs don’t let go until they know their people will be okay. I asked if she could sense what Sunny was thinking. She didn’t give a clear answer, but softly said, ” She’s a care taker. She’s waiting because she’s worried about us.”
So my husband and I sat with Sunny and told her the truth: that we would miss her terribly, but we would be okay. That if was okay to go. That she had done her job.
And just like she had for 13 years, Sunny stayed until we were ready.
The Final Lesson
After she passed, I realized something profound. All those years, I thought she stayed close to me because she needed me. But in truth, she stayed close because I needed her. Through a divorce, a new marriage-where she stood proudly as my dog of honor-and countless life changes, Sunny was by my side. Even now, though she’s gone, she’s still teaching me. I feel her with me. I know she’s still watching over me. I believe God sends us dogs like Sunny to us with a purpose-and hers was to take care of me. It took me 13 years to fully understand that. And i Tank God every single day that I was blessed with a dog like her.
In Loving Memory of Sunshine
My Sunny Bun, my teacher, my heart. You may be gone from my side, but you will never be gone from my heart and soul.