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How to Accidentally Adopt a Coyote
Moving to a new home is always an adventure, but I wasn’t expecting ours to come with a parade of stray dogs, a legal battle, and an unexpected new family member. But hey, when has life ever been predictable?
A year into living in our rural home, we decided to rescue a Great Dane, Pitbull, Ridgeback mix. This dog was considered illegal contraband in the breed-ban area he was found in, and he needed a home fast. Lucky for him, we don’t have those ignorant laws out here, and with plenty of land and experience handling large working breeds, we figured we could give him the home he needed.
He came to us in rough shape—abused, abandoned, and stitched together like some kind of patchwork quilt. The worst wound? A massive gash on his head, clean down to the skull. He had cuts all over his neck, was deeply distrustful, and, honestly, who could blame him? We spent a small fortune getting him medical care, nursing him back to health, and slowly earning his trust.
And this—this is not even the dog this story is about.
About three months after bringing him home, getting him through surgeries, and finally starting to break through that wall of fear, two more dogs showed up. A mother and her pup. And when I say “showed up,” I mean they emerged from the woods like ghosts, desperate and searching. Living out in the country, you see a lot of dumped dogs. It’s heartbreaking, infuriating, and unfortunately common. But this time, it felt different.
Every day, these two would wander from property to property, looking for someone—anyone—who would care. They’d run up to delivery drivers, try to jump into customer cars, just begging for a home. I started following them, worried there were more pups somewhere. The mother only had one, but I couldn’t shake the feeling there might be others out there. They were rail-thin, starving, but still so hopeful.
I hesitated to feed them. I didn’t know if they had diseases, and after everything we’d just been through with our first rescue, I wasn’t in a position to take on two more dogs. But they were getting desperate—trying to dig under our fence, destroying products we kept outside, just doing whatever they could to survive. The mom was sweet, but the pup? The pup was feral, skittish, and aggressive.
The second I gave them food, it was over. They weren’t going anywhere.
They started sleeping in our front yard, right by the highway, like tiny little roadkill waiting to happen. At night, coyotes chased them. No one claimed them. I reactivated my Facebook just to post them in lost dog groups. Nothing. No microchips. No owners. No one who cared. So, I reached out to rescues, because out here? There’s no animal control to call.
After a week of searching for help, we managed to raise enough in donations to get them shots, spayed, dewormed, flea-dipped, and on heartworm preventative (because the mosquitoes here are so big they should be paying rent). My neighbor even stepped up to help foster. Things were finally looking up.
And then—of course—someone came forward.
At midnight, all hell broke loose. I started getting messages about the dogs. But I was fast asleep, so I woke up bright and early for work the next morning to messages from some woman claiming these were her dogs.
“YOU STOLE MY DOGS!” she ranted, accusing me of theft. She didn’t even want the puppy, just the mother. Said she was calling the sheriff, pressing charges, the whole nine yards. So, I did what any reasonable person would do—I called a lawyer. Turns out, she could be charged with animal neglect and animal trespassing. If she called the sheriff, she’d be the one in handcuffs. I surely wasn't going to call the cops on anyone, but if she wanted to get herself arrested and fined this could end up entertaining.
She didn’t stop there. She started blowing up my Facebook, sending her little army of keyboard warriors to harass me all day. Meanwhile, I kept digging. With her name from the messages, we found out she had been trying to get rid of that dog for two years. Guessing she dumped her after she got pregnant, got caught, and then tried to save face.
We gave her a chance. The neighbors took the mom to her because she still wasn't picking up her dogs. With the rescue and even her landlord keeping tabs to make sure she actually took care of her this time. I deactivated my Facebook and let them handle the crazy. Not my circus.
But despite all of that, the good outweighed the bad. So many people stepped up, donated, and shared their support—proof that even in the middle of dealing with an absolute dumpster fire of a human being, kindness is never far away.
As for the puppy, well, we tried. We really did. We searched for a home, but she was aggressive, terrified, and didn’t trust anyone. I spent a year working with her, training her, and slowly gaining her trust. Turns out, she wasn’t just any stray—she was a coyote mix. Probably the result of one of the coyotes that had been hunting them mating with her mother.
And this is the part where you think the story ends. But it doesn’t. Not yet.
A year went by, and the puppy wasn’t a puppy anymore. And after all that time? No one wanted her. Not many people are lining up to adopt a part-coyote, semi-feral dog with an attitude problem. But one thing had changed—she had bonded completely with our other rescue. They were inseparable.
And at that point, what else was there to do?
She had already found her home.
How it started.
How it's going.
Despite all the challenges, the struggles, and the tough-love moments, we made a decision: We’re keeping the coyote mix. After over a year of working through trust issues, training, and getting to know this little hellion, she’s now part of our family. She’s no longer the wild, aggressive pup she once was, and she’s finally found her place with us.
Is she the perfect dog? Nah. But then again, who is? She’s got a few quirks (ahem, coyote ancestry). She’s still not a dog I’d trust around small animals, but she’s turned into a loving, loyal companion. She’s got a heart full of love, and I’d say that’s a win in my book. I can’t imagine our home without her.
Her mom? She still comes to visit. Whenever she escapes (which is often), she finds her way back to me. She always remembers where she was safe, where she was fed. And even though I wish things had turned out differently for her, at least I know she’s still out there, still loved.
Life is unpredictable, chaotic, and full of people who will let you down. But if you look hard enough, you’ll always find the good. You’ll find people who care, who step up, who make things better. And sometimes? You’ll find a dog you never wanted—but love with your whole heart anyway.
Rescue dogs? They’re a challenge. But for every ounce of chaos they bring, there’s a lifetime of loyalty and love waiting to be discovered. And that’s the part that makes it all worth it.
And now, we’re one big, messy family. Keep scrolling if you'd like to see a few pics of the monsters.
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