About Poppy's Pack
Hi, I'm Poppy Prescott, and welcome to Poppy's Pack.
This is a blog about rescue and adoption—but not the shiny, filtered version you see on social media. It's about the real, messy, wonderful, exhausting, heart-expanding work of bringing home a dog or cat who's been through something hard, and figuring out how to live together without losing your mind or your savings.
If you're sitting at your kitchen table right now, filling out an adoption application for the first time, wondering if you're good enough to rescue a dog—you are. If you've just brought home a terrified shelter dog who's been hiding behind the toilet for three days and you're crying because you don't know what you did wrong—you're not doing anything wrong. If you've been in rescue for years and you're so tired you can't remember why you started—I see you.
This blog is for all of us.
Why I Started This Blog
Twelve years ago, I walked into a Louisville county shelter "just to look." I came home with a one-eyed, terrified mutt named Waffles who spent her first week wedged behind the guest bathroom toilet. I had no idea what I was doing. I sat on the bathroom floor every night, reading forum posts that scared me even more, and I kept thinking: why isn't there a single place online where someone just tells the truth?
Not a shelter, not a vet, not a trainer with a program to sell. Just a person who's been through it, saying, "This is hard, and you're not failing, and it gets better."
So eventually, I became that person. That's Poppy's Pack.
Since Waffles, I've fostered, rehomed, and permanently adopted more than 30 animals. I've had foster fails and heartbreaking rehomes. I've returned a foster dog because he wasn't right for my home—and it was the kindest thing I could have done. I've slept on the floor next to scared dogs. I've cleaned up messes you don't want to hear about. I've also watched the most overlooked, "too much" dogs in the room turn into the most loved family members you can imagine.
I've made almost every mistake a person can make in rescue. This blog exists so you don't have to make all of them yourself.
Who I Am
I'm Poppy. I'm 34 and I live in Louisville, Kentucky, in a house that officially contains four rescue dogs, three rescue cats, one very patient husband, and a rotating cast of foster animals who each get named after a breakfast food. Right now, that means Waffles, Biscuit, Gravy, Pancake, and whoever shows up next. The naming thing started as a joke and turned into a tradition. It's easier than picking real names, and it keeps me from getting too attached—supposedly. It doesn't work.
My husband Ben is a high-school biology teacher. He's the rational one. He's also the reason we don't have a sixth dog. I'm the reason we have a fourth cat. That should tell you everything about how our household runs.
I'm not a vet, not a trainer, not a behaviorist, not a shelter employee. I'm an ordinary adopter who happened to fall into this life and never climbed back out. I've volunteered on weekend transport runs for my county shelter for years—the 6 a.m. meet-the-van kind—and I've read enough adoption applications to know what makes a good one. I've sat through meet-and-greets, signed surrender forms, cried in parking lots, and celebrated gotcha days with cheap champagne and cold pizza.
My fridge is covered in gotcha-day photos of every animal I've ever placed. Some are blurry. Some are badly lit. All of them are real. That's the best description of this blog I can give you: a fridge covered in honest photos.
What This Blog Is About
Poppy's Pack is organized into five sections, because that's how my brain works.
The Gotcha Files is where the wins live. Adoption stories, before-and-afters, and the origin tales of my own pack. These are the posts I write when I need to remember why I do this—and the ones you should read when you're doubting whether rescue works.
Home for Good is the practical stuff. What to actually do in the first 30 days (hint: not training, not forcing affection, not panic), how to set up a safe room that isn't just a crate, and how to introduce a new dog to resident pets without a brawl.
The Hard Parts is the section I'm proudest of, because it's the one nobody else wants to write. Returning a foster. Behavior problems that don't go away. Compassion fatigue. The "adopt don't shop" guilt machine. I write about all of it without judgment, because silence is what makes these things feel like personal failures.
Shelter Run is the behind-the-scenes. What happens on a transport run, how shelter volunteers read adoption applications, what to ask before you sign, and how to survive a meet-and-greet with a dog who's terrified of you.
Pooch Kitchen is the lighter side. Homemade dog toppers and treats, the books I actually hand to first-time adopters, and how I outfit seven pets on a thrift budget. Rescue life isn't all crisis. Sometimes it's just a dog and a spoonful of pumpkin.
What You Won't Find Here
No guilt trips. No "adopt don't shop" lectures designed to make you feel like a bad person for wanting a specific kind of dog. No promises that love fixes everything—it doesn't. No before-and-after posts that imply a dog is only worthwhile once they're transformed. No affiliate links to products I haven't bought with my own money and used in my own house. No photos that make you feel like your home or your life isn't enough.
I also won't pretend that rescue is always a happy ending. Some dogs don't fit. Some adoptions don't work. Some volunteers burn out and step away. That's not failure. That's part of the story.
Why I Keep Doing This
The truth is, rescue has broken my heart more times than I can count. But it has also filled my house with animals who snore on my feet, steal my blankets, and greet me at the door like I'm the best thing that ever happened to them. Some of those animals were supposed to be "unadoptable." All of them were someone's "too much."
Every good dog was once someone's "too much."
That's the whole point of this blog. The dog behind the toilet. The senior nobody wanted. The foster who couldn't settle. The cat who hid for a month. They're not problems to be fixed. They're family waiting to happen.
So pull up a chair. Read a little. Ask questions. Make mistakes. The animals will forgive you. I won't judge you.
Welcome to the pack.
— Poppy