Watch Whipped Cream bring “FEARFUL” labeled dog out of hiding 🥹
When I first met Scratch, the kennel was chaos. Barking ricocheted off the walls, echoing through the concrete aisles. She was pressed into the farthest corner she could find, head low, eyes wide, doing her best to disappear. Scratch was a large dog, but fear made her seem small.
Her intake notes said she’d been picked up as a stray two months earlier. Four years old. Under-socialized. Good with other dogs. Terrified of people. She didn’t even know how to walk on a leash at first. Two months in a loud shelter will wear on any dog, but for one who already struggles with confidence, it can feel like a lifetime.
Breaking the Ice
I crouched low and tossed her a treat, hoping to start a conversation in her language. At first, nothing. Then, a single step forward, a small, cautious sniff, and finally, the treat disappeared. It might not sound like much, but that was our handshake.
Alexis, my producer, stood just outside the kennel capturing the moment. She and I have worked together long enough to read each other’s cues without speaking. While I stayed quiet, she found out what we needed to know: Scratch had been overlooked for weeks. Staff had been trying to help her open up, but progress came in slow, subtle steps.
And then Alexis told me the part that made us both smile, her favorite treat was whipped cream.
The Whipped Cream Test
I waited until Scratch showed a bit more curiosity before pulling out the can. The sound alone can spook some dogs, so I stayed calm, avoiding sudden moves. When the soft swirl hit the floor, she leaned forward, sniffed, and gave it a tentative lick.
That one lick said more than any tail wag could. Fear and trust can’t exist in the same heartbeat, but they can trade places if you give a dog time.
The Moment Everything Changed
Just as we were wrapping up, a staff member walked in and quietly said, “She’s being adopted. Right now.”
I thought they were joking.
But they weren’t.
While we were filming, a woman named Jenny had walked into the shelter after seeing Scratch’s photo online. She told me she was drawn to the dogs no one else notices, the scared ones hiding in the back. “She was so shut down,” Jenny said, “but I knew she just needed someone patient.”
We met her as she signed the adoption papers. I showed her the clip of Scratch tasting whipped cream for the first time, and she laughed, promising to keep that tradition going.
A New Beginning
Shelter staff carefully carried Scratch out to the car in a crate to make the transition easier. She didn’t know it yet, but the barking, the cold floor, and the endless days of waiting were finally over.
Before leaving, Jenny handed me a copy of my book Sitting With Dogs and asked me to sign it. “I was watching your videos last night,” she said, “and now I’m taking one of your dogs home.”
It was one of those rare, full-circle moments that remind me why I do this, why I sit with the fearful ones. Because sometimes, while you’re trying to give a dog hope, hope walks right through the door.
Scratch got her whipped cream that day. And she got her person.
