We rescued our first dog in November of 2005. Meghan was a toddler. A sick toddler. I was functioning with little sleep and trying to balance being a full time mom of a beautiful, yet painfully unhealthy kiddo, with being a full time elementary school teacher.
We were years away from having the Cowden Syndrome diagnosis on a day when everything changed. Her dad and I had her at another grueling appointment where she was being held down by unsympathetic practitioners and screaming with all she had in her soul. Her dad, desperate to make it stop, said, “What do you want? I’ll get you whatever you want.”
“A happy… yellow… puppy… I want a HAPPY… YELLOW… PUPPY.”
To which her dad said, “OK, you’ll get one,” and I cringed in my soul. I could barely manage the life we had. I had never even owned a dog. But, a promise was a promise, and we started the process of finding a puppy.
I knew nothing about rescues, and in hindsight we definitely took a puppy from a puppy mill, through the guise of a “Petfinder” website.
“Santa” brought Lucky in late November of 2025. In a frenzy we threw the tree up the night before and raced around the night before Thanksgiving (with all of its crazy traffic) to let “Santa” drop Lucky into our living room that November night.
All the joy and chaos of a puppy filled our house and our poor babysitter had her tasks easily double with the terrible twos now multiplied under her care. She was not yellow, but all was forgiven. She was happy, and full of mischief, and Meghan and Lucky bonded forever.
And so from that moment on, there was always a dog, or two, or three in our house. We held onto the stability that despite all the medical chaos in our lives, we loved each other and we loved our dogs. We held it together, three humans and a canine or two or three. We stayed in the same home, and relied heavily on each other.
Decades passed and Allie and April, who never met each other entered our lives from different rescues. We loved them hard. They loved us back.
Life continued and Meghan kept her head up through more medical and emotional trauma than a room full of adults could have endured. The effects became evident only to those who loved her closest through the years, and that is a very tiny list. The abandonment, the need to lessen her own suffering to make those around her feel better, took its toll on her. The anxiety became utterly oppressive. Medical conditions continued to surface. POTS affected her heart rate regularly, the daunting fatigue and nausea were sometimes insurmountable, and the ADHD that would remain undiagnosed until college was starting to surface.
So, it was no surprise in the early part of 2018 that she began to talk about a service dog. I left her to do her own research, uncertain of exactly what having a service dog would entail, but certain it would be complicated and expensive.
After years of rescue dogs, Meghan locked in on Medical Mutts, a rescue to train facility in Indiana. She decided that she did not need a pure breed. She wanted a mutt who had been given a second chance at life, and a renewed purpose, to be the dog that helped her in her darkest hours. I let her take the lead and she interviewed with the facility. She was placed on their list and told the wait time was typically 12-18 months. We were given the cost, and while about half of the charge of a breed-to-train program, the number was a gut punch. Through grace and guidance we applied for grants and were accepted by ECHO, the Emergency Children’s Help Organization local to us. They agreed to fund the dog and our travel to and from Indianapolis.
Now all we had to do was wait.
But, because nothing is without additional agony for Meghan the 18 months became almost 3 years, and it was in the middle of the Covid era, in January of 2021 that we were set to spend 8 days bonding with her new bestie, and preparing them for full public access.
I was teaching remotely at the time, a full class of 4th graders. And while they were eagerly supportive of the trip, planning for a substitute to enter my google classroom was also an adventure. Nothing worth it is easy. So our goals and our journey were so worth it!
Meghan and I set out on the 12 hour drive to Indianapolis, where we met this beautiful, crazy girl. (Our blog from January 2021 has every step in great detail.)
Our lives were literally never the same. Ella passed her public access test and proved to be a champion car passenger as we drove the 12 hours back in a snowstorm together!
Ella went on to spend some time in Meghan’s public High School, whenever it was open that crazy spring, with the solid help of the team at Borough Hall and the awesome administration at Curtis HS.
She headed off with her to Misericordia University where they were on the swim team for two years, although Meghan covered the swimming end of that deal. Ella lived with Meghan in the dorms for a few years, and in off campus housing for one, until they finally settled into their own place in the summer of 2024.
She made a few trips to Disney with us.
Ella became an extension of Meghan. Those college years that were supposed to be so carefree, held challenges we could not have seen coming and left her father and I so thankful for Ella. The vascular tumor that had been festering just up the leg from the AVM in her knee that had repeatedly assaulted her childhood, was making a valiant go at her. It grew up against her sciatic nerve and left her in unspeakable pain.
Medication didn’t help. Sclerotherapy didn’t help. Cryoablation took some of the bulk away for a bit- but it didn’t hold.
Ella held her together. Ella gave her a reason to get out of bed.
Ella sat by her side in the summer of 2024 when she had the most traumatizing surgery I could have ever imagined to remove 2 square inches of muscle, and that tumor, from her thigh.
Ella never left her side a mere 7 months later when a series of faulty scans forced her into facing her 91% lifetime breast cancer risk with a double mastectomy at the age of 21.
And Ella was by her side a few months later when she graduated with a 3.8 GPA right on time.
And despite being a little more gray in the whiskers than when she started, Ella remained kind of a “Big Deal.”
The advice that she should likely retire from service work came after an emergency vet visit in April of 2025. She was suffering with some back pain and 10 hour days were getting to be too much. It was not easy at all for Meghan or Ella, yet we spent some time making the transition as fun as we could this summer.
I took Ella to some classes this summer, and met up with Janet, a most remarkable trainer. Ella and I figured out how to work together, and we have been brainstorming ways to keep this brilliant girl busy.
In addition to quality time with her brothers, Ella has become a certified therapy dog, and will begin working this month. We will figure out a slow and steady schedule that suits us both. Her vest will look a little different, and her tasks will have changed, but the goal is still the same. Ella will be making humans lives better, one pet, snuggle, and goofy trick at a time.
This is a story of second chances. This is a story about a shelter dog who became a Service Dog that graduated High School and College, and went on to become a Therapy Dog. This is a story about what happens when we give second chances and look at what someone has to offer instead of judging or dismissing them as “less than.” This is a story of humanity and what we can do for each other when we SEE each other, past the labels that have been slapped on us.
I shudder to wonder what would have been if someone didn’t pluck Ella out of the shelter and believe in her.
It’s why our family is so connected to shelter animals. Our hearts need second chances too.
Maybe that’s the lesson we all need.
#beatingcowdens
beatingcowdens 