7 Pups from the Pines, P. O. Box 43, Scroggins, TX (2026)

05/14/2026

Current total raised for the emergency kennel building: $1,525.

The finalized purchase total is $6,436.25, which means we are now officially under $5k away.

The photo shows our Original 7 Pup (Martha Dale — 67.5 lbs) demonstrating what a large dog looks like in the building for scale.

Honestly, we did not expect our rescue infrastructure fever dream to gain this much traction this quickly. 😅

To every single person who sees value in this goal, this work, and this vision for something better — THANK YOU.

🐾🌲

05/13/2026

Current total raised for the emergency kennel building: $830.

For a small grassroots rescue with a big idea, a lot of hope, and a long history of crying in the car over dogs we could not safely take….this honestly means more than we can explain.

Thank you to every single person helping us try to make this happen.

🐾🌲

Click the video for a walkthrough tour of the building. 🎥

05/12/2026

Last week, we sat in a Domino’s parking lot feeding pizza to a stray dog while traffic moved around him in the dark.

That’s not a dramatic opener.
That is literally what happened.

A hungry dog with no collar standing beside a drive-thru window because somewhere along the line, surviving off scraps and the kindness of strangers became normal for him.

We called animal control, but it was after hours, so a city officer responded instead.

We talked to him.
Tried to figure out what could be done.
Tried to figure out where this dog could safely go.

The next day, I spoke with the Pittsburg Animal Control Officer.

He told me this dog has been on his radar for a couple of weeks.

But every time he tries to catch him, the dog runs.

And honestly, that made the whole thing sit even heavier, because the dog did not run from me.

He stood there with me.
Ate pizza out of my hand.
Walked up willingly.

I am not the “dog catcher,” so I think he viewed me differently than somebody arriving to capture him.

And the truth is, I probably could have gotten him into my car.

But I still left that parking lot without him.

Not because I didn’t care.
Not because he wasn’t worth saving.

Because I didn’t have anywhere safe for him to go.

No emergency foster.
No holding space.
No way to safely separate an unknown adult male dog from my resident dogs.

As of today, this dog is still on the streets of Pittsburg.
Still getting thinner.
Still needing help.

And the truth is, it’s not just this dog.

It’s the boat ramp dog.

It’s Haven and Halo on the side of Beer Run Road.

It’s every time we drive past a dog needing help, and “help” looks like leaving food and water and praying somebody steps up to foster before something awful happens to them.

People sometimes talk to rescuers like we exist outside of the community watching this happen.

We don’t.
We live here too.

We see the same dogs standing in ditches and gas station parking lots and county roads that everybody else sees.

We feel that same sick feeling in our stomachs too.

Because sometimes the limiting factor is not compassion.

It’s infrastructure.

That is exactly why 7 Pups from the Pines needs this building.

Not to become a micro-shelter.

Not for long-term confinement.

But as an emergency landing space.

A place for the dogs who exist in the awful gap between “this dog needs help right now” and “we found a safe plan.”

Because right now, that gap is swallowing dogs whole.

This building is an 8x16 kennel setup currently available in Mount Vernon.

It has:
• Two separate, secure kennel runs
• Indoor access for both dogs
• Locking enclosed indoor housing
• Ventilation already built in
• A metal roof
• Easy-to-clean and disinfect surfaces
• Enough separation to safely hold two dogs independently when needed

The center outdoor divider can also be modified into one larger outdoor run if needed. The indoor portion can also be climate controlled.

This building would not solve every problem.

But it would solve one of the biggest ones we run into over and over and over again — the gap between crisis and placement.

The gap where dogs are most vulnerable.
The gap where rescuers are most overwhelmed.
The gap where rushed decisions happen and dogs are left behind because there is simply nowhere safe for the dog to exist temporarily.

Right now, every emergency becomes a scramble held together by texts, borrowed crates, panic, favors, and hoping somebody says yes to fostering in time.

We know $7,000 is a massive amount of money for a small rural rescue to ask for.

Honestly, it feels obscene to us too.

But this is us looking at the reality of what rescue in this community is, and accepting that “figure it out in a parking lot and pray” is not sustainable.

Because after nights like the one we had at Domino’s, it becomes painfully obvious that compassion alone is not enough.

At some point, you need infrastructure too.

This building is already built, already available at Chaileys Metal Structures & Portable Buildings in Mount Vernon, and can be moved directly onto our property immediately.

And if enough people each carried a small piece of it, this could become something that changes outcomes for years to come.

Not because kennels save dogs — people do.

But sometimes what helps save a dog is simply having a safe place for them to exist while the rest gets figured out.

Because compassion without infrastructure eventually turns into helplessness.
___

A video tour of the building is in the comments. ⬇️

💵 Donations can be made here:
https://linktr.ee/7pupsfromthepines

Or by mailing a check to:
7 Pups from the Pines
P.O. Box 43
Scroggins, TX 75480

7 Pups from the Pines is a registered 501(c)3, and donations are tax deductible.
___

The dogs are already out there.

The emergencies are already happening.

We are trying to build a safer answer than “there’s nowhere for him to go.”

🐾🌲

05/11/2026

Introducing Barron 🐾
aka “The Award-Winning Scooby-Doo”
• male • 10 months old • emotionally available but assembled incorrectly

Barron spent most of puppyhood growing up in a rural shelter after coming in as a stray.

Which is objectively sad.

But somehow, instead of becoming fearful or shut down or weird about it, he came out the other side as a long-legged goofball who acts like every day of his life has been leading up to finally getting invited inside somebody’s house.

He’s been in a foster home for the last couple of months and adjusted suspiciously fast.

Like:
“Oh. THIS is what y’all have been doing in here.”

——

Barron is currently built like a dog who was assembled too quickly.

Tall. Lean. All elbows and enthusiasm.

He has enormous Scooby-Doo energy:
sweet-faced, well-meaning, and occasionally operating with a loose understanding of physics.

He runs at full speed with complete confidence, then remembers halfway through that steering is technically part of the process.

He’ll check behind him to make sure his dog friend is still there and immediately run into:
• a tree
• a wall
• a chair
• the air itself
• or just his own feet

Then he gets up acting like you’re being dramatic about it.

——

Barron likes other dogs, likes people, and believes he should be included in whatever is happening at all times.

He follows the group with the energy of somebody who doesn’t know the itinerary but is thrilled to have been invited.

He settled into home life like it was a birthright that got temporarily delayed.

——

Also worth noting:

At three months old, Barron competed in the Winnsboro Autumn Trails pet costume contest as part of a butterfly/caterpillar duo.

(He was the caterpillar. His foster mom was the butterfly.)

He took second place.

A controversial outcome, in our opinion, but officially recognized nonetheless.

So yes, technically speaking, he is an award-winning dog.

——

For a dog who didn’t get the best start in life, Barron doesn’t carry himself like it.

No major quirks.
No dramatic baggage.
Just a genuinely good young dog catching up on the part he should’ve had from the beginning.

He wants a home where he gets to keep being this version of himself — included, mildly uncoordinated, and loved on purpose.

Barron is fully vetted and ready to be someone’s dog.

Apply to adopt Barron:
https://linktr.ee/7pupsfromthepines

🐾🌲

05/07/2026

This dog is currently running loose along Greer Boulevard in Pittsburg tonight.

Adult male.
Not neutered.
No collar.
Thin, hungry, and very vulnerable to getting hit by a car.

We saw him at Domino’s around 8:30pm. Animal control was contacted, but because it’s after hours, the soonest they can attempt to pick him up is tomorrow morning — which means he still has to make it through the night.

The city officer who responded to our call said he had already been spotted earlier this evening near the Exxon up the road, so he’s moving through the area along the highway.

The dog is very sweet. Gentle. Approached easily.

Hungry enough to stand beside a drive-thru window hoping somebody might feed him.

Tonight, that somebody was us.

So we sat in a parking lot sharing our pizza with a stray dog while cars kept pulling in and out around him, trying not to think too hard about what happens if he walks into the road at the wrong moment after we leave.

And honestly, this kind of thing is exhausting.

It’s defeating to not even be able to go pick up dinner without another hungry, neglected dog standing in front of you needing help.

Another dog with no collar.
Another dog wandering traffic.
Another dog depending on strangers to notice him before something terrible happens.

This should not be normal. But around here, it is.

And before anybody asks: No, we cannot just “take him.”

We don’t have anywhere for him to go.

We don’t have emergency fosters sitting on standby.

We barely have fosters at all.

And I cannot safely bring an unvetted adult male dog into my own home with five other dogs already living there.

That is the reality.

So tonight, the best thing we can do for him is try to get eyes on this post.

If this is your dog, please come get him.

If you recognize him, please message us.

And if you’re driving through Pittsburg tonight — especially along Greer Boulevard — please slow down and watch for him.

He deserves to survive the night.

🔔 UPDATE: I spoke with the Pittsburg Animal Control Officer on Thursday. He told me this dog has been on his radar for a couple of weeks, but every time he tries to catch him, the dog runs.

05/04/2026

Last spring, we took in a stray mama dog who had just given birth to eight puppies underneath a stack of drainage culverts.

No shelter.
No plan.
No backup.

Just a dog trying to keep her babies alive, and a decision to not look away.

We pulled them out of the dirt.
Got them warm.
Got them safe.

And then, we stayed.
Because leaving was never an option.

They made their way out of that beginning, into lives that look nothing like where they started.

Through the part people don’t see.

The in-between.
The waiting.
The months where nothing is wrong…but nothing is happening either.

They never knew how close they came to being left behind.
They only ever knew that we didn’t.
And somehow, that was enough.

One by one, they found their homes.

And this weekend, over a year later,
the last of them found her home too.

Poppy.

The one who waited.

The one who never acted like she was waiting at all.

Because the truth is, to her, she wasn’t.

Poppy has been loved deeply since the day she was born.

She’s been held, raised, and known by people who showed up for her again and again and again.

She didn’t grow up wondering if she mattered.
She didn’t spend her days unseen.

She had people.
So many people.
From the very beginning.

And that didn’t happen by chance.

It happened because there were people willing to stay.

Through the in-between.
Through the delays.
Through the moments where nothing lined up the way it should.

Especially her fosters.

They didn’t just “help.”
They committed.

They made space for Poppy.
They built her routine.
They carried her through the stretch of time where a dog can quietly get overlooked, not because anything is wrong, but because the timing hasn’t landed yet.

That part matters more than people realize.

Because this work isn’t just about rescue.

It’s about endurance.

It’s about staying.

It’s about who’s still there when it gets quiet.

It’s about choosing the same dog every day,
until the right person does too.

We don’t rush that.
We don’t force it.

And we don’t give up just because it takes longer than we thought it would.

Because sometimes,
it does.

Until one day, it finally clicks.

The right home.
The right people.
The right time.

And suddenly, it makes sense why it didn’t happen any sooner.

Poppy didn’t just get adopted.

She landed exactly where she was meant to be.

And after everything it took to get her there,
that matters.

All eight puppies.
Their mama.
Every single one of them is home.

But this was never just about the ending.

It was about the promise in the middle of it.

That we would stay.
That we would not leave them behind.
That we would carry them as far as it took — no matter how long it took.

This time, it took over a year.

And it was worth every second.

🐾🌲

04/20/2026

Poppy
aka “The One Who Was Supposed To Be Gone By Now”
• 1 year old • female • mixed breed •

Poppy has been alive for one full year, and she’s exactly the kind of dog people should be fighting over.

Poppy is… suspiciously perfect.

She makes friends everywhere she goes.

And she’s never once been the worst behaved dog anywhere. Which is impressive, considering her raising.

She reads the room.
She waits her turn.
She meets new people like a small mayor.

No one knows exactly where Poppy learned her manners —
but it was absolutely not from any of the original 7 Pups from the Pines.

She looks at you like she knows your secrets,
but will never bring them up in public.

She’s calm in the way that makes you feel like you should also calm down.

She doesn’t demand attention —
she just quietly becomes very important to you.
(She’s extremely good at that.)

Poppy has the personality of someone who says “take your time” and sincerely means it.

She’s the kind of dog who would remind the teacher about homework, but in a way that you’re not even mad about.

At this point, we’re confused on a scientific level.

We really hoped Poppy would be adopted before her first birthday, because throwing a birthday party for a foster dog feels like something that should require a permit. Or a psych evaluation.

And yet, several fully grown adults made a plan to gather in public and celebrate a dog found under a stack of drainage culverts turning one year old.

Not one person stepped in and said maybe this has gone too far.

So we sat at a table.
In public.
While a dog wore a crown.

And everyone involved behaved like this was completely reasonable behavior.

Honestly, she behaved better at her own birthday party than most adults do at theirs.

Because Poppy is not a difficult dog.
She is not a complicated dog.

She’s just a really good dog
who somehow has not gone home yet.

All of her siblings have been adopted.
Her mom has been adopted.
Several unrelated dogs who showed up later have been adopted.
And a couple of dogs have been adopted, returned, and then adopted again.

But somehow, Poppy is still here.

Waiting her turn.

—

“Poppy seems like she would be calm if a ceiling fan fell.”
— Nancy, Poppy’s foster

—

If you’ve been waiting for a genuinely good, funny, well-adjusted dog…

Congratulations. 🎉

You are looking for Poppy.

🐾🌲

Adopt here ⬇️:
https://linktr.ee/7pupsfromthepines

$She made it to the vet.Her pelvis was shattered.Not fractured.Not cracked.But completely broken apart.Over half a dozen ...$

04/17/2026

She made it to the vet.

Her pelvis was shattered.

Not fractured.
Not cracked.
But completely broken apart.

Over half a dozen fractures.
Both hip sockets gone.

There was no surgical fix — not even at a specialty level.

There was no version of this where she healed and got to walk again.

There was no version where she could live without constant pain.

There was no version where she would have survived her injuries.

This was never going to be a “wheelchair dog” story.

Because the damage had already been done.

So we made the decision to let her go.

And I stayed with her.

I was told I could leave.
That the end isn’t always clean.

I knew what that moment asked of me.
And I stayed anyway.

Ginger wasn’t alone.
She wasn’t out there dragging herself through the dirt anymore.
She wasn’t trying to make it work with a body that couldn’t anymore.

She was in a quiet room, with someone sitting beside her, telling her she was a good dog.

Less than 6 hours before that, I didn’t even know she existed.

But I still meant it.

Ginger was soft. Gentle. So much quieter than she should have been for what her body had gone through.

I loved her Grinch feet, and the “extra toes” on the back — all the best dogs have those.

I loved her red eyelashes, and the little Dalmatian-looking spots across the end of her nose.

Most of all, I loved her curly tail — white at the tip and red the rest of the way. She was still wagging it, even then.

She looked at me like she knew she wasn’t alone — and she wasn’t.

—

There’s a version of this where she never gets seen.

Where she slowly declines out there.

Where nobody knows how bad it really is.

Where it ends the hard way.

That’s the version we refused.

This is the part of rescue people don’t always talk about.

Not every story ends in adoption photos.

Not every dog gets a second chapter.

Sometimes the work is stepping in anyway, and making sure the ending is not suffering.

—

We said yes to Ginger — and this community showed up.

By the time we got to the vet, donations had already been called in. By the time everything was done, her care was fully covered, except for $31.

A man standing at the counter heard what happened, and paid the remaining balance without a second thought.

We did not carry this alone.
And that means more than we can put into words.

—

Ginger was ours for a very short time.

But she mattered.
She was loved.
She did not leave this world alone.

Some dogs get saved.
Some get delivered from suffering.

And that is rescue too.

🐾🌲

04/16/2026

This dumped dog was hit by a car.

She cannot use the back half of her body and is dragging herself across the ground by her front end.

We don’t know yet if this is something that can be treated, or something that can’t.

What we do know is that leaving her like this is not an option.

Right now, she is on her way to Broadway Veterinary Hospital.

Not because we have a plan.
Not because we have space.
Not because we have a foster lined up.

We don’t.

What we do have is a line we won’t cross:

We don’t leave animals suffering in pain when we have the ability to intervene.

—

Right now, this is about evaluation and relief.

It’s about getting answers.

Making sure she is seen by a vet.
Making sure she is not left in pain.
Making sure whatever happens next is based on a real assessment.

This is a part of rescue people don’t always see.

The part where you step in knowing you cannot carry the whole thing — but you do what you can anyway.

—

We are covering the cost to get her seen by a vet immediately.

We offered this knowing that if it comes down to it, we will use our personal CareCredit to make sure this dog gets the urgent medical care she needs.

Because 7 Pups does not have funds set aside for this right now. If we’re not able to fundraise what’s needed, this will not be paid for with rescue funds — it will be us, personally, stepping in to cover it ourselves.

We do have a way to make sure she isn’t left in pain, and we are willing to use it if we have to.

Because we’re simply not going to leave her like that when we have a way to help.

If you want to help cover her vet care today so we don’t have to carry this alone, here’s where you can donate 💵: https://linktr.ee/7pupsfromthepines

Or to make a payment directly to the clinic, call Broadway Veterinary Hosital at 903-885-0061 under the account for 7 Pups from the Pines / Emmy Summerlin.

7 Pups from the Pines is a registered 501(c)(3), and all donations are tax deductible.

—

Some dogs are taken in.

Some are healed.

And some are met exactly where they are,
and given what they need in that moment.

That is rescue too.

🐾🌲

04/15/2026

He’s not living at the boat ramp anymore.
That part’s behind him now.

For weeks this dog was surviving on his own at a local boat ramp.

He stayed right there, in the same place where he was dumped.

The only thing he had left from whatever came before was a yellow squeaky toy he carried around like it mattered.

He was fed by strangers.
Slept in the brush.
Came up to anyone who would acknowledge him.

And for a long time, that’s where he stayed.

—

Most of the work we do never makes it to social media.

There are situations we step into that never get shared publicly, and a lot of the work happens quietly in the background long before there’s anything to show for it.

Since our last post about this dog, we were actively working to build a plan that we could safely and realistically carry out once he was caught.

That meant bringing in a professional trapper and moving toward purchasing a secure, climate-controlled indoor/outdoor setup for cases like this.

We were also coordinating with a board-and-train facility to get him into a program with a professional trainer — not just for the leash panic, but also to get a qualified assessment so we could make informed decisions about his long-term placement.

Because getting a dog off the road is the first step. That’s not where it ends.

Before we were able to put our plan into action, the Wood County Sheriff’s Office was able to capture and bring him into their care.

And we’re glad he’s with them now.

—

Most people don’t realize this, but the Wood County SO Animal Adoption actually operates their own adoption program.

This isn’t something most other local law enforcement agencies choose to take on. It’s not required, and it would be easy not to do it.

What they’ve built is intentional, it’s functional, and it reflects a level of care that goes beyond the bare minimum. It sets a standard and an example for other agencies, and it shows the community that this actually matters to them.

And now the dog from the boat ramp is part of their program, where he’s been named Beaux and will be available for adoption soon.

When we found out Beaux was with them, we reached out right away.

And yesterday, I went to see him.

On my way there, I stopped at the boat ramp first and spent an unreasonable amount of time attempting to locate his yellow squeaky toy, thinking he might want the one thing that had been his. Despite digging through the brush — knowing full well this was exactly how one ends up in a snake encounter — I never found the toy.

Fortunately, I had prepared for this by acquiring the exact same toy in advance and bringing it with me.

Beaux did not care.

At all.

Didn’t look at it.
Didn’t sniff it.
Didn’t acknowledge its existence in any meaningful way.

I think I hid my disappointment well.

It was really good to see Beaux again.

He looks great.
He seems settled.

And he still has the exact same way of leaning into you like he thinks you’re his.

—

7 Pups from the Pines has offered to sponsor any additional veterinary needs Beaux may have beyond what the county’s program covers, and we’ll also be involved in supporting his path to adoption.

Not because we have to.

But because when we said we would make sure he was taken care of, we meant it.

🐾🌲

7 Pups from the Pines

05/14/2026

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