Skittles: The Dog I Never Thought I Could Have Again

 

“I didn’t share this story at first because I didn’t know how it would end. Now I do.”

On December 11, 2025, a small, skittish Rat Terrier showed up on our property. We live in a rural area where dog dumping happens far too often, so at first I assumed he was another heartbreaking case of that. He had no chip, no collar, and despite efforts from both me and animal control, no owner ever came forward.

I’ve had Rat Terriers before. I knew the stance, the eyes, the “I’ve chosen you” energy. And once he decided I was his person, that was that. We adopted him.

Some of you know pieces of this story, but for those who don’t — or who need a refresher — I want to share why this moment was so huge for me.

Why I Thought I Could Never Have a Dog Again

For years, I believed I could never safely have a dog. Not because I didn’t want one, but because of something I never imagined could be dangerous: topical estrogen.

My first dog, Ranger, was sickly his entire life. I started topical estrogen about four months after getting him. I was traveling and living full‑time in an RV then, and in his six years he saw more than a dozen vets across the country — including the University of Florida’s vet college — for what they thought were severe allergies causing his hair loss.

Not one vet ever mentioned the possibility of hormonal exposure.

After losing Ranger, I adopted Arya. Within a shockingly short time, her vulva swelled. I typed “why is my puppy’s vulva swollen” into Google… and my world dropped out from under me.

I learned that topical estrogen can transfer to pets and cause serious health issues. Suddenly, all of Ranger’s unexplained problems made sense — and Arya was already showing signs.

I was horrified. I contacted my HRT doctor and switched to injections, but there was no guarantee they’d work for me. Living in an RV with her, I was terrified I was harming her just by existing in the same space.

Arya wasn’t housebroken, so I didn’t feel I could ask anyone to keep her for an unknown amount of time. And if the shots didn’t work and I had to go back to the cream… then what? I couldn’t risk her health.

Her vet brushed off my concerns — most vets seemed to know very little about this — and I felt completely alone.

I called the breeder, who I’m not sure believed me, but she gave me a place to take Arya for rehoming. I was a wreck the entire drive. I almost turned around half a dozen times. I didn’t want to give her up. I loved her. But I felt I had no choice.

Those last moments — her pulling back on the leash, wanting to stay with me — still haunt me.

After that, I went back to the estrogen creams. There was no reason to keep trying the shots, and I was too heartbroken to imagine ever having another dog. I left every dog group on social media. For years, I avoided anything to do with Rat Terriers.

Only this year could I finally rejoin those groups. It was bittersweet — I loved seeing the dogs, but it reopened the ache for Ranger and Arya.

The Universe Sends a Test… and Then a Gift

In September 2023 (ironically the month of Arya’s birth), a stray Hound showed up on our property. She reopened old wounds without meaning to, but I eventually got her to a hound rescue and knew I’d done the right thing.

And then, on December 11, 2025, Skittles — named for his initially skittish behavior — showed up.

The second stray dog to find his way to me.

The second little soul to walk straight into my life without being asked.

And, of all the breeds in the world, my favorite breed - a Rat Terrier.

He was terrified at first, but over several weeks I gained his trust. I tried not to bond with him, but of course I did. There was no way I was turning my back on him.

Eventually, I turned him over to animal control for the required 72‑hour hold while they searched for an owner. I’d already posted him in half a dozen lost‑dog groups on Facebook and on Nextdoor.

And then I waited.

I would’ve been happy for him if an owner came forward — truly. But after weeks of silence, I have to be honest: I was hoping no one would.

He came home on December 29th.

My Christmas miracle.

Trying Again — Carefully, Intentionally, and With Everything I Learned

But we weren’t out of the woods yet.

Before I could fully exhale, I needed to know the estrogen injections would work for me long‑term. But I had to try. It felt like the Universe was giving me another chance.

With the holidays, I had to wait a few weeks to talk with my doctor about restarting the shots. In the meantime, I took every precaution. I changed where I applied the estrogen — my leg instead of my arm — even though my doctor wouldn’t approve that option when I had Arya. I no longer lived in a small RV, which made a huge difference. And Skittles doesn’t sleep in my bed.

It wasn’t a casual decision. It was careful, intentional, and rooted in everything I learned the hard way.

It wasn’t simple. But I chose to try again — with better information, better boundaries, and a heart that was finally ready. One careful step at a time.

For Ranger. For Arya. And for Skittles. I fought for a different ending this time.

And Now… We’re Healing Together

Fast‑forward: my body adjusted to the shots quicker and easier than I ever expected. Skittles needed me as much as I needed him. A stray who found a forever home, and a heart that thought it could never have another dog.

We’re healing together.