This is an excerpt from Vegan Minded: Becoming a Steward for Animals, People, and the Planet.

Once I dreamt I was in my grandma’s attic where I was giving birth to kittens. They were coming out of me! I didn’t tell anyone about the dream for the longest time. Instead of having babies in my early 30s, I was having kittens. I didn’t have any cats at the time and I really hadn’t considered adopting one for various reasons, so this dream didn’t make any sense to me. Eventually I did adopt a kitten I named Max, which quickly led to the adoption of a second kitten I called Grace. That’s usually how it goes. One cat leads to more cats. When I did finally tell a friend about the dream, she looked at me and asked, “what took you so long to get a cat?”

Cats are my jam. Just looking at one, I feel my heart soften and my body relax. They offer the perfect mix of independence and affection. They were just the right amount of responsibility for a young adult living in a one-bedroom apartment in a big city like Chicago. I was out and about a lot, so cats were ideal for me.

While living there I walked a lot, and I often noticed people walking their dogs. I thought it looked fun, to have a companion to walk with, so I always envied those people, even though I’m a cat lady. You could say I had FOMO, you know, the fear of missing out. But, I had a similar feeling about people who run. I used to envy those people too until I ran a 5K and thought I was going to die. After that I vowed to never run again—except to catch the train or something like that—and to stick with walking from here on out.

When my husband and I moved to California, I started hiking in the hills around our house. We lived within walking distance to several public trails and paths. Over the years I walked hundreds of miles in these green spaces, mostly alone. And again, I would see people walking with their dogs, some on leashes and some not (use a leash!), but always I had this envious feeling and wished I had a dog too. Circumstances never seemed to line up just right for me to adopt one though. I knew dogs were more responsibility and effort than taking care of cats. But once we moved to the countryside, I thought I was ready for the responsibility. Both my husband and I worked from home and we lived on 12 acres. So after pining for a dog for over 20 years, it seemed like a good time to adopt one.

Adopting from a shelter or rescue organization was my plan. According to Best Friends Animal Society, less than 50% of folks planning to adopt a pet from a shelter, actually do.1 I’m someone who is likely to use the hashtag #adoptdontshop or #muttsarethebestbreed, so I started searching for my dog. I stayed up late every night scanning the Petfinder website and any other local rescue sites I could find. I was looking for a young dog, not a puppy, preferably female. I have walked plenty of dogs over the years and knew that walking a male dog was a completely different experience than walking a female. Male dogs want to sniff and mark every blade of grass. Females would just do their business and move on. I mean they still like to sniff all the things but there’s more walking. The last requirement and this one was non-negotiable: She needed to be cat-friendly. I was the guardian of two cats now, Lucy and Loki.

What I found was most of the dogs available for adoption where we lived were big ones, like German shepherds or live stock guardian dogs. I knew I didn’t want a big dog, but I also knew I didn’t want a small dog either. I was looking for one that was just the right size. Over the years I had pointed out a lot of medium-sized dogs to my husband, thinking that was right for us. Turns out, most dogs seem to be large or small. Medium dogs were harder to find. One day I found one almost two hours away. I kept my eye on the shelter’s website where he was located but kept hoping to find a dog closer to home.

Soon after, I did. I adopted a German shepherd mix who was about six months old and not too far away. She was going to be bigger than I had hoped but I was okay with that. Turns out she was terrified and really needed a dog friend—she was used to being around a lot of dogs, so she went back to the foster home less than 24 hours after I brought her home. I was also told she was fine with cats. That did not appear to be the case when she saw Lucy. I was bummed about this turn of events, but I knew it was the best decision for her and my cats. I kept searching.

Not all shelters and rescues have a good way to test dogs and cats with each other. It’s something you really have to investigate and ask about, but I also knew there would be an integration period once I brought a dog home. After searching for more than a month, I was about to give up on finding a medium-sized rescue who would be cat-friendly. I even started to consider puppies. I was on a mission though, so I called about the dog that was two hours away. His description said he was cat-friendly, and he still hadn’t been adopted.

The woman I spoke with at the shelter was very excited someone was interested in adopting Merv, but she warned me, “Someone is here meeting him.” He had been at the shelter for five months and now two people wanted to adopt him on the same day. Sounds about right. She gave me the scoop on Merv anyway. He was 42 pounds and about 2.5 years old, a German shepherd mix, and most importantly, he was cat-friendly. Even though it sounded like he was going to be adopted by someone else, I went ahead and filled out an application.

The application process at this particular shelter was fairly straightforward, but some rescue organizations have a process that is more like applying to work for the FBI. The barriers to adoption2 are many:

• Cost: Many people believe adoption fees are low or non-existent. That’s just not true. Adoption fees can range from zero to well over $500 for a dog. I inquired about a puppy available through a rescue organization and the adoption fee was $550. Merv’s adoption fee would be just $100.
• Communication: Many organizations are under staffed or lack necessary volunteers to respond in a timely manner. Slow response times are common. Many places I emailed or called during my search never got back to me. Persistence is necessary.
• Requirements: Many shelters and rescues require home visits or photos of the interior of your home plus photos of a fenced in area around your house. This can feel intrusive. In order to adopt Merv, I sent photos of our fenced in yard to the shelter for approval.
• Rejection: If you don’t have the “right” kind of yard or work hours or whatever they require, the organization may reject the application. It’s almost as if some of the groups just want to keep the animals in their care indefinitely. While my application was not rejected, our small fenced in yard was barely acceptable for most places where I applied for adoption.
• Wait: Because of the slow response times between communications, it’s easy to give up and move one. At one point in the process, I went to meet some puppies I found on craigslist because I was tired of waiting for people to respond. I obviously opted not to pursue that route—of buying a dog from a breeder—but I did consider it, against my better judgment, out of impatience.
• Breed: Shelters and rescues are mostly guessing on the breeds of the dogs they have available. Unless they have information on the parents, which is unusual, they guess the breed by the dogs’ appearance. If you really want a specific breed, you can find full breed dogs at shelters and through rescue groups. You just might need to be patient.
• Location: This was my initial obstacle to Merv. The shelter was two hours away.

If we want more people to adopt animals rather than buy them through breeders and pet stores, we would be smart to make the process friendlier: fewer hoops and more education.3 Keep in mind, no matter the obstacles, adopting a pet is the best option. It is a lifesaving act. In 2020, 4.3 million cats and dogs entered US shelters and 347,000 cats and dogs were euthanized that same year. So focusing on saving lives, rather than breeding more lives, is essential to reducing the euthanization rate, and it is working.4

Merv was adopted. I waited too long to call about him. Of course, this made me want him more. I decided to make the drive down to the shelter anyway to meet some puppies and other dogs they had available. The puppies were adorable—heeler mixes and they probably wouldn’t get too big based on their mother’s size. They would be ready for adoption in a few weeks. I was tired of searching by this point, so I decided I would adopt one of the puppies when she was available to go home. But a few days later, the shelter emailed to let me know that Merv was being returned. The woman who adopted him needed back surgery. I made an appointment to meet Merv a few days later. Finally! It was my turn!

My plan was to meet him and then think about it for a couple of days. I found him tucked in the corner of his cage, quietly curled up on his cot, kind of like a cat. The shelter had cats roaming around the lobby, so we walked Merv by all the cats and he had no interest. Check. He was calm and friendly. Check. I didn’t have the heart to send him back to his cage, where he would be subjected to all the barking from the other dogs. Many of these dogs were going stir crazy in their cages, jumping up and down or turning in circles when someone walked by. I adopted Merv right then and there. I renamed him Scout and took him home. He threw up all over the back seat. We were off to a great start.

On the drive home I decided that I was going to introduce him to the cats straightaway. I knew I didn’t have the patience to keep them separated for an introductory period as many “experts” suggest. My dad always said, “Just throw ‘em all in a room and let ‘em work it out.” I opted for a modified approach. We walked in the house with him on a leash and the cats were immediately curious but didn’t run and hide. Scout was curious too, but not aggressive in any way. It was uneventful. Just what I wanted.

But within a couple of weeks things got real. We went hiking together (dreams come true!) and Scout came home covered in ticks. Deer ticks. The itty bitty ones. The ones that are hard to find. The ones that carry Lyme Disease. It was gross. We were on a trail the whole time, and unfortunately that would be the last time I would walk that trail. How did I not know about all the ticks! I asked everyone I knew who had a dog how they handled ticks. Almost everyone said something like, “It’s not an issue.” They had experienced very few or no ticks at all over the years. Apparently, I adopted a tick magnet.

At his first vet appointment I learned Scout needed dental surgery. A $900 dental surgery. The vet thought he probably had been chained up and had chewed on the chain, which ruined several of his teeth. I was starting to learn more of Scout’s story. He was a rescue after all.

Then Scout contracted kennel cough, probably from the vet’s office, and he proceeded to cough and hack for three full weeks. It was loud. He felt horrible, and I felt horrible because I wasn’t sure I was up for this. Just as he was recovering, the world shut down for COVID-19. It was a tough time. None of this was his fault, nor the shelter that rescued him.

His daily walks were not the happy go-lucky walks I had hoped for either. He pulled. A lot. It felt like there was a good chance he would rip my right arm off. Almost every morning as we trudged up the driveway back to the house after walking in the park, I cried. Walking him was miserable. I had signed us up for a dog-training class, but I had to delay it when he had kennel cough and then it was canceled due to the pandemic. Finally I scheduled a private session with the trainer. It helped. A little. I started using treats to encourage cooperative behavior. I was hoping to feel like we were a team. We definitely did not. He loved the treats, so I changed his name to Munchie. We switched from a harness with the leash hooked on his back to a Martingale collar. I used this for about a year. I didn’t love it. While my right arm felt better, I worried about his neck. My husband wouldn’t use it.

But my husband wasn’t allowed to walk him anyway unless it was an emergency. Every time my husband brought him home from a walk, Munchie would be covered in ticks. Even I had figured out the safe places to walk him. So basically, by this time, I was Munchie’s only caretaker. As it turns out, my husband didn’t want a dog at all.

All the while I kept wondering if I should keep him. It was turning out to be more responsibility than I thought I could handle. I kept thinking about how he had been in the shelter for five months, spending most of his days in a cage. That is a long time, and he was a good dog. He has the sweetest temperament. He’s a good boy! Every time I even considered returning him or re-homing him—usually as I walked up the driveway crying, I felt guilty. I couldn’t do it. Pets are part of the family. How do you return a family member?

One day I called my sister who lived a few hours away to see if she wanted a second dog. She had two dogs before and had lost one the year before, so I thought, “Maybe,” with fingers-crossed behind my back. She had hinted at getting a second dog, so it was worth a shot. She said, “No,” but she reached out to her network of friends and found a possible adopter, almost immediately. I called this woman, who was possibly going to be Munchie’s new mom and asked her a lot of questions. I needed to discern if she was worthy. I was becoming a one-woman rescue organization with a rigorous inquiry worthy of an FBI agent. Her answers held up. We made a plan to meet the following week. I stewed on it for days, and then I canceled. I couldn’t do it.

To be clear, I’m not entirely new to taking care of dogs. I grew up around dogs. My first job out of college was as a pet sitter, and I owned a pet-sitting business when I lived in the Bay Area. Plus, I volunteered for many years as an adoption counselor for PAWS Chicago. I helped many dogs find homes over the years. I knew all the things: the estimated annual cost of dog care, need for daily walks and play, etc. Perhaps there was a deeper reason I never adopted a dog of my own.

Maybe I’m not the person I thought I was and this was a true test of my commitment to veganism. I underestimated my ability to care for another being and overestimated my commitment to all animals, not just the ones we eat for dinner. For more than a year, I was living on the edge between keeping and re-homing him. His home life teetering in the balance. I mean after all this time I wasn’t being tested for eating animals but with caring for one. Vegans can be a judgy group. Ever heard of the vegan police? Unfortunately it’s a thing in the vegan movement. How many other movements have their own police force? As I’ve learned over the years, most vegans expect that when someone adopts an animal they keep the animal—for life, until death do us part. I tend to agree with this for the most part, but there are always exceptions.

After I had adopted my first two cats, Max and Grace, things were going swimmingly. They became fast friends. But, I had to rock the boat by adopting a third cat, Chelsea. Grace did not like Chelsea. On the fourth day after bringing Chelsea home, there was a big, scary cat fight. Chelsea pooped all over my apartment as she ran to hide from Grace. Terrifying, for Chelsea and for me. I should have taken Chelsea back to the shelter then, but I felt responsible for her. I couldn’t do it. This was before I was even vegan! It took three years for all of us to integrate together and live peacefully. In retrospect, I think I did a disservice to Chelsea but I gave her the best life I could.

I’m still not sure I have done right by Munchie, although by now we’re pretty much attached at the hip—he’s my Velcro dog. Every time I sat down to work on this essay, he was snugged up next to me. This past summer I switched to a different harness with a front hook. Better. Much better. We are starting to walk as a unit sometimes. My husband plays with him on rainy days, encouraging “zoomies” in our living room. This past summer Munchie and I went to a training class, and we learned a few commands like sit and wait. Lucy and Loki are good sports about the dog. Munchie likes to herd us around the house. He’s part cattle dog.5 With all the time spent walking him, there is certainly less time for the cats, but I’m making it work and Munchie has a stable, loving home.

I still think of myself as a cat lady. And I think everyone who knows me does too. Not once has anyone given me anything with a dog on it. I don’t have a mug with a big dog face, but I drink coffee every morning from my favorite yellow cat mug. I don’t have any dish towels with dogs on them either but many with cats. Most have been gifts. Birthday cards—the same thing. Lots of cats, no dogs. Once a cat lady, forever a cat lady. It’s just that now I’m a cat lady with a dog.

A young woman I once worked with said her energy better matched cats than dogs. I thought that was a wise thing to know, and I sometimes wish I would have made that connection about myself before I adopted Munchie. In fact I think I did but I ignored it. I remember during my dog search thinking as I walked into the living room one evening, “Why mess with things? These two cats are perfect.” I wonder if I will ever embody the spirit of a dog person. I don’t know. I do know that without Munchie, I probably wouldn’t have seen five American Bald Eagles flying overhead last weekend as we walked on the shore of Puget Sound. While my pace may have slowed because he wants to sniff the world, my dog gets me outside every single day, rain or shine. I’ve seen things I may have missed if I was walking faster. And without Munchie I wouldn’t have met so many of my new neighbors this summer when we moved to the Pacific Northwest. Hey, I bet they think I’m a dog person. Maybe I’m more than a cat lady after all.

Author’s note: For many writers, the act of writing can be healing as was the case for me writing this essay. While my dream of adopting a dog turned out differently than I expected, I have felt a deep love for Munchie and an acceptance for what is that was just beyond reach before putting pen to paper. If you are considering adopting an animal this holiday season, please make sure everyone in your household is in favor. Ideally there will be no surprise gifts, and all family members will meet the animal in person before finalizing the adoption. #adoptdontshop #muttsarethebestbreed

1 https://bestfriends.org/no-kill-2025/animal-welfare-statistics

2 https://bestfriends.org/no-kill-2025/animal-welfare-statistics

3 I didn’t say easy, and I don’t mean everyone should be eligible to adopt a dog. It’s not for everyone. But how many hoops are you going to make people jump through in order for them to give a dog a home that needs one. Also, there seems to be a struggle between city shelters, humane societies, and “rescue groups” to determine the best way to save lives and get animals in homes. The city shelters tend to be overwhelmed with animals without the resources to save them all, and then many rescue groups are so careful with the adoption process that it feels like a disservice to the animals. They are all doing good work, but we need a balance.

4 https://bestfriends.org/no-kill-2025/animal-welfare-statistics

5 Munchie was supposedly a German shepherd mix. I was curious, so I had his DNA tested. I guess technically he is a German shepherd mix but he is only 4% German shepherd. Munchie is 30% American pit bull terrier; 16% Australian shepherd; 16% Australian cattle dog; and a little bit chihuahua, cocker spaniel, and doberman pinscher. He’s a lot of things, but mostly just a good boy.