It was a sunny day in Fort Payne, Alabama, and Aggie and I were house hunting. Between viewings, we decided to take a little break and explore the Little River Wildlife Management Area. We had no idea that the detour would lead us to a dumped dog.
Driving along the winding roads, we suddenly spotted a beagle lying by the side of the road. Our hearts sank—we thought he’d been hit by a car. We pulled over immediately, hoping we weren’t too late to help.
As soon as we got closer, though, he jumped up and bolted. He was terrified. Every time we approached, he ran, getting dangerously close to the edge of a cliff. One wrong move, and he could have fallen.
We had to think fast. Luckily, we had some leftover rotisserie chicken in the van, so we started breaking off pieces and tossing them toward him. Slowly but surely, he inched closer, and after what felt like forever, we finally managed to slip a leash over his neck.
We named him Alabama. He was skin and bones, clearly abandoned for a while. We took him into town to check for a microchip, hoping he had a family looking for him. But there was no chip. No collar. No one searching for him. He was on his own.
That’s when we knew—Alabama was coming with us.
We brought him back to Pennsylvania, determined to give him the second chance he deserved. Thanks to the amazing team at Nittany Beagle Rescue, it didn’t take long for him to find the perfect home. Now, he’s living his best life, surrounded by love and care.
Thinking back to that moment in Fort Payne, I’m reminded how even the smallest decisions can change a life. We could have kept driving, but we didn’t. We chose to stop. And because of that choice, Alabama got his happy ending.
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