Unfortunately, we don't have many rescue organizations for animals where I live. So, most of the abandoned animals have to be lucky to be adopted by someone. Two of my neighbors are real dog lovers. One of them has got 4 dogs in a specially built dog-run in her tiny backyard, while the other one has got 5 who live with her in her house. All these animals are the offspring of irresponsible owners who failed to have their dogs sterilized. Even though the conditions for my neighbors' dogs aren't ideal, they are far better off than innumerable others that prowl the streets for scraps of food, while suffering from parasitic infestations and all kinds of horrible medical conditions. Not top mention the endless pregnancies that result in litters of 5-10 pups each time, and the general lack of human attention.

I absolutely love this! Every single one of my animals throughout my life time has been a rescue. I have rescued and rehomed so many animals that I've lost count. My current two dogs (Mocha and Latte) I found on Craigslist actually. They had been thrown into the Bayou by Austin, Tx and were found starved half to death, weak and clinging to a rock in the rushing waters. WHen they were nursed back to health, they were posted on Craigslist and I was flipping through the ads one day to see if I could find a puppy for myself (due to the fact that my lab, who I had plucked personally out of a dog fighting den, had just passed away, and my ex-husband took my staffordshire terrier, who I had found roaming the highway), and there they were. I had originally only wanted 1 dog, but after reading their story I couldn't just leave one without the other and I'm so glad I didn't! They would be so lost without each other! They are sisters from the same litter, and I was so blessed to have found them.

I didn't rescue my dog from any specific organization, but it was given to me by my mom, who is a veterinarian. His previous owners signed him over to the clinic when they could not pay to give him Parvo treatment. Now he is my dog, and I love him very much.

When I was young, my family adopted this dog who was living on the streets. I remember that my grandma was adamant about it because she thought that the dog would pose a danger to us. We took care of the dog. We really loved him. But one day his real owner came and took him back. My dad was really saddened about it. He has soft spot for strays. He even took in a lost kid before. He was a deaf mute and we thought at first that he was a street kid. My aunt then went to a TV station and made an announcement about the kid. Days later, the kid's parents came to our house. She was really grateful that my dad found and took care of her son.

My parents once took in a dog from the streets, so I think they kind of adopted him. He was in a bad condition and my mother felt so bad when she saw him that she decided to give him a good home. We took care of the dog for a good year, loved him like it was originally our own. The thing was that one day he just vanished from our yard. No one saw him leave nor no one even knew where he would went. We tried to find him but never saw our dog after that. It was sad and I still miss him, even when it's already for a while since we adopted him.

I considered my dog is rescued because of where he lived, even though I got him from a private owner. In her neighborhood, pit bulls are raise to be a fighter in a ring and then just abandon if the dog lost the fight. I was never comfortable with pit bull, but I got him anyway and I am careful to not bring out his aggressive side of the breed. He is a sweetheart.

All the dogs that we've had have been from the local dog rescue centre, and I've never actually bought a dog from a breeder or anything like that.

I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that of course, I just like the fact that I'm helping to house dogs that in the past haven't had the best of lives, and its always nice to show them that not all humans are bad.

Half of my dogs are rescues and half are not. both of my part Pit Bull dogs are from the shelter. That is almost all you can find in the shelter where I am because dog fighting is so prevalent in the area. My Puggle is from a friend of a friend who got a male and female puppy from the same litter and then did not fix them in time. She is supper inbred, a classic example of poor breeding. I never would have adopted her if I did not know that the owners had not intentionally bred their dogs. the last dog I have is a pure bred Great Pyrenees. we got her from a breeder after extensive research into what kind of dog we needed around our livestock and chickens.

I have never adopted a rescued dog though I would gladly do it. I came close to rescuing and owning a stray puppy once. It looked confused and apprehensive and was hiding behind some flower bushes in a gated school. Needless to saw it was evasive to a fault and I failed to capture him. I am an animal advocate in my element though the nearest rescue centre is not proximal to where I live. Most people have resorted to castrating male dogs to prevent overbreeding.

When I was young, my friends and I rescued a dog in our neighborhood. He was young, a year old at most, and he looked tired and thirsty (it was summer), so we took him under a tree in our condominium's garden and gave him some water and food; after that, we let him go.
However, the very next day he came back to us, and we fed him again; from then, he kept coming back every day. Eventually, we grew attached to him, and we decided to take care of him: we took some collections to buy him a little house, treats, food and toys, we took him to the vet to vaccinate him and we bought flea medicines every week.
It's been years, but he's still there. He looks so happy and grateful every time he sees us.

We rescued my dog at an adoption event hosted by a Petsmart near us where a shelter brought a bunch of dogs to the store for people to adopt. My little jack russell was the only dog that wasn't barking like mad, and he looked scared out of his mind. When I put my hand near the cage, he slowly crept forward and licked my hand and I instantly fell in love. He was a stray when he was found and brought to the shelter, so I have no idea how he came to be a stray, but boy, am I glad fate led him to me!

He was a service dog for a handicapped man, he was going to be put in the pound. Luckily my husband was friends with the family and talked them out of it. When we brought up taking him, they wanted to charge us for him. We explained the shelter here would charge them 90 dollars to put him in there or they could give him to us for free they reconsidered. We have cleaned him up and given him a yard to run and mile long streets to walk. He loves it out here in the country.

I didn't use any organization. One day while I was wandering around on the streets of Bucharest I noticed a stray dog that was limping and it was hungry. At that point I'd wanted a dog for a while so I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to get a dog and do a good deed at the same time. Shortly after that I took it to my house, cleaned him up and fed him, the next day I went with him to the vet to get some shots and he's been healthy and happy ever since.
It's been 9 years since that day, and I'm always glad that I was able to rescue a small and kind animal like my dog.

One of my most treasured pets I ever owned was a rescue. My dad and I rescued him from an actual person, not an organization. My dad had delivered some wood to the guy several times and we noticed he had this golden retriever tied up out back all the time. There was a dog house, but it was way too small for him. His collar was so tight, we weren't sure how he was breathing. He had no shade, no water, and looked purely miserable. So, when my dad asked about him, the guy said how much he hated this dog and wish he'd just die. My dad at the time was not a dog person and we hadn't owned a dog since I was a small child. So, instead of payment for the load of firewood, it shocked me completely when my dad asked if he could have the dog instead. He named him Jack, since the poor thing actually had no name. My dad started feeding him well and he went from big to huge. In fact, when Jack was living, he was the largest golden retriever I have ever seen once Dad nursed him back to health. The craziest thing was that he was ultra-scared of doors. If you wanted to let him in or out, you had to open the door ALL the way open. I mean ALL the way! Upon entering or exiting, he would run past the door. If someone went to open a door and he was near it, he would jump like crazy. He must have been hit by a door or something. Whatever it was, we had Jack for another 9 years or so before he got cancer and we had to put him down. We cremated him and he still sits on my Dad's dresser to this day.