Rehoming Pets - Beware of the Comments: I Worry We Are Shaming People Away From Seeking Help.
- Liz Weiner
- Oct 7, 2025
- 11 min read
Updated: May 14
Animal rescue is exhausting, to put it mildly. We encounter situations that make us question humanity, and it takes a heavy emotional toll to see pets discarded like an outfit that has gone out of style. Pet overpopulation is at crisis levels, and there are areas of the country where healthy animals are being euthanized simply because there isn’t enough space to house them. I understand why people are angry and quick to judge, but somewhere along the way, the act of “giving up a pet” has become highly polarized, leaving us in a troubling place. I find we are lumping people who situationally rehome their pet into the same category as those who abuse and neglect, and fail to see anything in between.
This is a really dangerous place to be.
Real life is nuanced, and devastating. Circumstances, from health to finances, can change in an instant. As such, we need to keep in mind that reasons for rehoming are not “one-size-fits-all." Shaming and blaming not only do nothing to help the situation, but I worry we are creating a climate of bullying people away from seeking help.
In my role as an Intake Specialist at a municipal shelter, I can tell you that not every person who calls to surrender their pet follows through. Contrary to popular belief, most people don’t want to surrender their pet, but they think they are out of options. And yes, often they are, but by engaging in a nonjudgmental conversation, the call can take a different direction.
That conversation involves listening, sympathizing, troubleshooting, and, in the best of circumstances, problem-solving. When we turn the volume down and invite compassionate into the conversation, pet parents are made aware of resources that may help them keep their pets.
Sometimes it’s as simple as first-time pet owners not realizing that training is a tool that can improve their relationship with their pet. Other times, it’s a matter of tapering expectations, normalizing the challenges that come with a new relationship, and encouraging them to give it time. Sometimes it's sharing information about food banks or affordable veterinary care. And if rehoming is necessary, educating about responsible ways to privately rehome their pet while it remains with them, ultimately bypassing the stressful shelter environment and keeping space open for the next animal who will inevitably come through the shelter door without that option.
If we scare them off from calling, they won’t get any of that information.
I won't sugarcoat it: Whether that’s due a lack of connection or unworkable circumstances, not every pet owner is open to this conversation, and you can tell the difference pretty quickly. There are times I simply ask how soon they can bring their pet in. And that’s ok, that’s exactly why shelters exist.
With a shared love for animals and their well-being, I understand the impulse to fill in the blanks of someone else's life, and I recognize and respect the range of experiences that shape our perspectives. I’m not here to claim that the lens through which I view this crisis is the "right" way, or to suggest others don’t have the right to theirs. The intensity around pet rehoming overwhelms me, so I am definitely not up for a debate. I’m here to share insights from my lived experience into the whys of surrendering a pet.
The strength of the relationship.
When it comes to bonds that hold pet families together, the strength of the relationship needs to be considered. The reality is that not every pet is considered a beloved family member, and as such, not every owner experiences a heartbreaking farewell. There are different levels of attachment we share with our pets, and we have to start by non-judgmentally assessing where someone is. It’s not a bond that can be forced, and barring mistreatment or neglect, it doesn’t make someone a horrible human if they don’t have it. So let them do the responsible thing by reaching out and giving that animal a chance at finding a better life. If we scare them away, we risk them sequestering their pet in the basement, living in the yard, or simply abandoning it.
“They shouldn’t have gotten a pet if they couldn’t afford it, didn’t have the time, or didn’t do the research.”
In a perfect world, this would be the case. However, the reality is that people don’t always think through their decisions, and we don’t have a crystal ball to predict the future. I’m fairly certain that most of us can pinpoint at least one time in our lives when we chose wrong (I have an entire binder full).
They thought pet ownership would be something, but it turned out to be something else. Presumably, they kept the animal safe while in their care, but it turned out to be more than they had the time, resources, energy, or emotional bandwidth to handle. They are entitled to their experience, and I don’t believe their intent was ill-willed. We could “they should have” on them all we want, but we can’t shame someone into a different worldview or change their circumstances. Let them try to find a better placement.
Even the most loving pet owner can face irreconcilable differences.
You may discover that the pet that has been with you pre-children — the one you love like a child — cannot safely co-exist with your actual child. Or your new dog severely injured your cat, and the risk of management failing again is too great. Or your partner is so allergic to your cat that she gasps for air in her own house. Or even though you have taken every measure to remedy the problem, your cat is still peeing all over the house, creating unsanitary living conditions. It's not fair to pretend to be in that owner’s shoes and swear that you would be able to keep that pet.
There are behaviors that not everyone can work with, and sadly, not every animal can overcome. People have a right to boundaries and should not have to live in fear of the next incident. We don't shame people for getting divorced, even though they made a commitment to remain together "until death do us part," when someone leaves an unhealthy relationship. We would never shame someone for having a child if they "couldn't afford it." Yet, here we are.
And when it comes down to it, is it fair to keep a pet in an environment in which they are not thriving? Should a fearful cat have to live with four rambunctious children under five years old and hide the majority of its days, or would it be better suited to a calmer household? There are times when the fit just isn’t right, and no amount of “training” will change that.
Pets don't have the same protections as children.
Most heartbreaking, there are those who describe their emotional attachment to their pet as maternal, and the loss breaks them. I get it — my pets are the closest thing to children I have, and I would literally do anything for them. But even though it can feel the same, it’s not.
Here is how I see the difference between children and pets:
While we humanize pets, they are considered property in the eyes of the law and don't have access to the same accommodations and support afforded to human children. You can love your pet like a child and still fall victim to life’s circumstances, and there is nothing to break your fall. With children, there is an entire system of external support to keep families together despite what hardships:
That safety net is known as Government Benefits.
Landlords cannot discriminate against children based on their appearance.
Children are eligible for free healthcare, daycare, and school lunches.
Children can be claimed as dependents on taxes.
Children receive a free education, where they learn how to navigate the world.
Children are entitled to an IEP where specific accommodations are legally required to be met to ensure their needs are being met (animal trainers and behaviorists are expensive).
If a child has a significant physical or mental impairment, they qualify for Supplemental Security Income to ensure those needs are met outside of the school environment.
Children can be claimed as dependents on taxes.
I could go on. And on. and on. Meanwhile, you can’t even use food stamps to buy pet food. This isn’t meant as a political critique — just a statement of where we are.
There are systemic barriers that are much larger than any individual’s choices.
We find ourselves in an interesting conundrum within the animal welfare community. On one side of the shelter (Intake), we are judging people for “giving up” their pet. On the literal other side of the same shelter (Adoption), we are begging people to adopt to save lives — and not only at the shelter, but at all types of offsite events in the community, from sporting events to breweries. Open admission shelters are literally giving pets away for free to anyone who is at least eighteen years old and passes a background check for animal-related offenses.
Please know, this is not a criticism of shelters AT ALL. Promoting adoption through community involvement, in a non-discriminatory way, is the most effective way to save lives, and I understand why we do it: Can you imagine how many more homeless and needlessly euthanized animals there would be if pet ownership were reserved only for people of a certain socioeconomic status?
"If you couldn't afford it, you shouldn't have gotten a pet."
A shared love for pets crosses every social and economic boundary. Being unable to afford the “gold-standard” level of veterinary care doesn’t necessarily make someone a neglectful pet owner. Not all pets will get a dental every year, eat the highest quality food, or receive vaccinations beyond what’s available at low-cost clinics. Sometimes pet ownership looks like keeping a pet well fed and loved.
According to the Federal Reserve (2024), “when faced with a hypothetical unexpected expense of $400, 63% of all adults said they would have covered it exclusively using cash, savings, or a credit card paid off at the next statement (referred to, altogether, as “cash or its equivalent").
Among Americans who cannot cover a $400 emergency with savings, roughly 37% report that they would have paid by borrowing or selling something, or that they would not have been able to cover the expense.”
Protections like pet insurance can be cost-prohibitive, and even with coverage, most companies require payment for be made services upfront. As for credit services, many pet parents are either denied entirely or are approved for only a portion of the funds they need.
I’ve worked with loving pet owners who have spent their last “X” hundred dollars to care for their pet’s emergency needs, but when the money runs out, or the credit card has hit its max, so do treatment options. When faced with economic euthanasia, there are times when surrendering a pet is not only the most compassionate choice. Yet, when we see a pet surrendered due to unable to afford medical care, we tend to think the worst - but being behind the scenes, these are some of the most heartbreaking cases.
The good news is that we are lucky to live in a time that recognizes the barriers to pet ownership, and there are organizations that are dedicated to supporting making pet ownership more accessible: Pet food banks, vaccination clinics, and free (or very low-cost) spay/neuter services. Practical strangers are contributing to tax deductible crowdfunding platforms such as Waggle, Go Fund My Pet, Furlanthropy, and grants are available for non-routine veterinary care. The "Yes to Care" initiative includes both a tax deductible "round-up" option at check out of veterinary practices to help pets at the community level, and a guaranteed payment plan that allows practices to work with clients facing financial challenges that credit-based tools cannot address.
But while these are incredible supplements to offset the cost of pet ownership, clinics typically offer only routine veterinary care, pet food banks inventory varies, and you can’t rely on being chosen to receive a grant that has limited funding (if you even have the benefit of time to wait for the care). And, resources are not available in all geographic areas.
We can't view someone else’s life through our worldview.
Before I worked in animal rescue, I would have never believed the dire situations I hear about every day are a thing that happens in a world I am apparently very sheltered from. I've learned it’s easy to berate people and tell them what they should be doing when we view someone else’s life through our worldview, but it’s like comparing apples and oranges, and it’s not fair.
When you have support to fall back on, it’s hard to imagine a reality where you don’t. Not everyone owns a car to live in with their pet. Not everyone has assess to affordable housing options - breed and size restrictions are a real structural issue. I say this with sincerity and without any sarcasm or judgment: If you truly can't see yourself ever falling into such circumstances, I hope you don't take that for granted.
When decisions are made based on access to resources, it is easy to miss the common ground between us. There is a frightening amount of "othering," of "us" against "them. Other than to shame someone, I'm not sure the goal of letting a struggling pet owner knows that they would overcome any obstacle to keep their pet. This "othering" of people who aren't like us often leads to heated language, dehumanizing comments, and most importantly, missed opportunities to find solutions.
I understand that not everyone experiences a heartbreaking farewell, but many do.
The circumstances that lead to surrendering a pet are endless, and some feel more morally acceptable than others - I 100% get that and my intent is not to make excuses for anyone. But unless we know the full story, the most respectful way to respond is to exercise caution with our words. Shaming comments aren't helping pets or their people.
When we only hear a three sentence summary, its easy to forget that there is a person behind the vague backstory who may be going through the worst time of their life, and consider the human consequences. Not only can shaming scare people away from seeking help, but when someone does seek help, they risk being further broken by a type of public humiliation.
Both sides of the leash matter: Often wen pets are struggling, their people are too.
Until I saw the unedited stories, I filled in the blanks, too.
And once I knew the unedited stories, I felt an intense feeling of frustration (maybe even anger?) toward those who made judgments from behind the scenes. But in the process of writing this, I realized that I was doing the same thing — just toward "those" people, and silently in my head. At the risk of sounding cliché, I have compassion for where these comments come from. They are experiencing a human reaction, driven by a love for animals and the outrage they feel upon learning that the animal is now homeless and at risk of dying. Of course, they are angry. They are standing up for the animal that has no voice. And as such, my anger came from my desire to stand up for the misunderstood grieving human who is being attacked. No one wins here.
I'm not here to change minds - we all have a right to our lived experience.
We are all entitled to our feelings, and I’m not here to change anyone’s mind or even ask that you start offering condolences. We all have our lived experiences and there are many times when we've seen stereotypes reinforced. I'm not here to argue, and definitely not to pretend that every person is a loving pet owner. When we look at the big picture problem, I understand the frustration.
I’m just at a place where I can no longer let the fear of backlash stop me from staying silent. Having had the lived experience of witnessing those unable to breathe through the avalanche of tears pouring down their face as they hand off their pet, I owe it to them to tell their story.
As always, my writing is based on my own opinions and experiences, is not representative of any agency or organization, and should not be taken as fact or considered professional advice.
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