Her Kennel Labeled CAUTION, but Here’s the Truth…
The moment I stepped into her kennel, she was growling at me. Immediately, I could see the fear in her eyes—that unmistakable boxer expression that tells you everything you need to know. The kennel card had “CAUTION” written across it, and when I asked Alexis, one of the shelter staff, about my caution level on a scale of 1 to 10, she rated it a 6 or 7.
You might wonder why I’d walk into a situation like that. But this is why I do what I do. I never want to prejudge these animals based on kennel cards or notes alone. Apply a stereotype, and it quickly becomes who they are. Tell everyone to enter with caution, and suddenly the dog becomes labeled as dangerous—when really, they’re just hurt and scared.
I’m uniquely qualified to talk about boxers because my soul dog, Flip, was a boxer. When you look into a boxer’s eyes and see their facial expressions, they tell you their whole story. And this girl had quite a story to tell.
The Telltale Signs
As I settled in, I noticed several things: her heavy, nervous breathing, her wide-open mouth (not a smile, but anxiety), and the scattered treats on the floor that she wasn’t touching—a sign of how shut down she was. Even my homemade, human-quality treats couldn’t break through her initial fear.
I started slow, offering treats, keeping my movements minimal. Boxers are known as the clown dogs of the canine world, but they’re also family protectors. They span the emotional gamut more than almost any breed—from lazy couch potatoes to high-energy goofballs to serious guardians. When they’re scared, they’ll certainly go into protection mode.
Gradually, she started accepting treats from my hand. Progress.
Her Story Unfolds
While building trust with her, I learned her story from Alexis. This four-year-old boxer had come in just yesterday with three other boxers—all surrendered by the same owner. The reason? One of the dogs had apparently bitten a puppy in the home, but the owner didn’t know which one. So they surrendered all of them, including the puppy.
As the details emerged, I felt my protective instincts rising. None of the dogs were fixed. The owner mentioned having litters of puppies they were having trouble rehoming. She showed signs of having recently had puppies herself, with bloody lactation the staff was treating. Her broken canines suggested she’d been chewing on rocks out of boredom—a common behavior for backyard dogs.
It all painted a picture: these weren’t aggressive dogs. They were dogs who hadn’t been given a chance to succeed. They were likely backyard dogs, breeding machines, who hadn’t experienced proper integration into family life. “When you have children and multiple dogs, especially boxers, it can be challenging,” I acknowledged. “But you don’t give up on all of them.”
From Growls to Comfort
As our session continued, her transformation was remarkable. She went from growling to eating treats to seeking affection. Her tense body gradually relaxed. I watched her boxer smile emerge—that real, genuine smile, not the anxious open-mouthed breathing from earlier.
When someone sent a squeaky toy through our “Love Letters with Dogs” program, she lit up. She started playing, even retrieving it when I tossed it. All signs of aggression disappeared.
At one point, she almost crawled into my lap—a move I call “the boxer curl.” We were so close to the full “scoop” (when a dog completely sits in my lap), getting about halfway there before kennel noise startled her. But the progress was undeniable.
The Power of a Bath
The final transformation came with a bath. Mel, another staff member, was able to pick her up without any resistance. As the dirt and grime washed away, so did more of her fear. We dressed her in a yellow bandana sent by a supporter named Starla, and the difference was striking. Looking at before-and-after pictures, her eyes still showed concern but not sadness anymore.
A Personal Connection
Throughout our session, I couldn’t help but think of Flip. I lost him recently, and seeing another boxer in need opened that wound. But it also brought clarity to a dream I’d had where Flip told me, “This is not the end.”
His message was about letting go of fear—that constant guard I’ve kept around my heart, always waiting for good things to crash down. Flip taught me it’s okay to enjoy the good times, to invest fully in this mission of helping dogs without fearing loss.
This boxer girl was at that same crossroads—learning to trust again after her world fell apart.
Final Thoughts
I’ll never stop missing Flip. But I know now—this isn’t the end. With every dog I sit with, his legacy continues. And with your help, we can make sure Kay’s next chapter is the best one yet.
If you can’t adopt, please share. If you want to help dogs like Kay, join our community, become a member, or just keep sitting with us.
Because every scared dog deserves their scoop.
