I Saw a Homeless Woman Struggling With 8 Puppies. I Had to Help

Driving home from work on a sweltering day in Houston, I did a U-turn under the freeway and saw a heartbreaking sight.

"Oh my god," I said aloud, as rush-hour traffic came to a halt.

Sitting on the hot pavement in a tiny bit of shade was a homeless woman and her dog, who was nursing eight small puppies.

Traffic was at a standstill, so I rolled down my window and waved to her. Once she made eye contact, I grabbed my phone to take a picture as she picked up a puppy and kissed it.

Cars started moving and I continued on my way home but couldn't stop thinking about her. Her dog was a pit mix, and I was concerned that some dog fighter would try to take her puppies.

I returned the next day after work, driving my Jeep up over the curb to get close enough to talk to the woman. I brought some water and dog food and asked what her plans were for the puppies.

The mama dog was barking at me so I couldn't get very close, but the woman seemed to have a good command of her. She brought one of the little pups over for me to hold and told me that she hoped to sell the puppies for $20 each so that she could get the mama dog, named 7-11, fixed.

Feeling hopeless at the enormity of her situation—juggling nine dogs with no transportation in a busy intersection—I went home and posted the story and two images on social media. "I don't know what to do," I wrote. "We are not usually dog rescuers."

The response was immediate and overwhelming.

Right away, friends and strangers shared the post and asked how they could help. Offers came in to donate funds, towels, water, and puppy food. I set up a Zelle specifically for the contributions and offered my computer retail store as a drop-off point.

But this was only the beginning of the challenges I faced after getting involved.

The unhoused woman wasn't always in the same place when I drove home from work, and when I finally saw her again and shared that there had been a tremendous response to my social media post, she broke down in tears.

I told her I could put her in contact with someone who could fix the mama dog and get the puppies adopted. But she didn't want to lose her dog, even for a day, or risk the puppies being put down. Expecting her to give them up for a couple of weeks was a tough ask.

After talking to her, I knew it would be difficult to get her to release any of the dogs, even though I'd noticed a dark bump on one of their necks. It turned out that all the puppies had flea nests on them, as well as parasites, and needed medical care.

Not knowing what else to do, I continued to stop by with protein bars for the woman and chew snacks for the mama dog, slowly winning their trust. I posted updates on Facebook and in a local group, and others in the area began to check on the woman and her menagerie.

A local animal lover named Kari agreed to take all eight puppies to the vet for their initial check-up, and care for them at her house afterward. My wife and I met her at PetSmart to give her flea treatments and puppy food we'd bought with donations.

Kari noticed that two puppies were showing signs of continued illness with runny stool, which can be a sign of parvo, and took them to a pit bull rescue, where they tested negative. She then offered to work with the group to get the puppies vaccinated, fixed and homed.

She gave them medicine for worms and parasites, which resulted in a lot of puppy poop, so frequent baths were needed to keep them clean. Pretty soon, kids in her neighborhood began coming by to help with bathing and clean up, and to play with the puppies.

The pups were going through puppy food at a pretty good clip, three cans per meal which cost $75 a day. I urged Kari to create an Amazon wish list, and once she did people were buying the puppy items faster than she could post them to the site.

With the babies now in a safe place, that left the mama dog, who still needed to be spayed.

I posted another update on social media: "I would like to arrange to have the mama dog fixed and vaccinated. While she is at the vet getting that done, I'd like to give the woman a night or two in an extended stay hotel so she can get cleaned up and get some rest. I can contribute to this. If anyone wants to help, please DM me."

Again, strangers stepped up, contributing not only food, clothes and puppy pads, but individuals pledged to cover the vet costs. One woman offered to escort the homeless woman to the vet and stay with her while her dog had surgery, since she was afraid of never seeing it again.

Donations hit over $1,500 in just a few days, and doubled after that. I was floored.

One morning I went shopping to find some more food and puppy pads. As I was checking out, there was a young girl with her mom who saw what I was buying and heard me talking to the cashier.

She asked if I was David, the one with the puppy rescue on Facebook. I told her that indeed I was. She said that she'd been following the posts and wanted to donate some money. She ended up paying for my entire purchase.

My next task that loomed felt monumental: Getting the woman to trust me enough to get the mama dog spayed. I contacted a homeless advocate who volunteered to take the woman and her dog to the spay appointment. Scheduling is critical and the dog had to be dropped off at a designated time.

Which led to another hurdle. How do you contact someone who is living on the streets? I own a small store that sells pre-owned Apple products, so I gifted the woman an iPhone with a 90-day Mint Mobile plan so that we could stay in touch. This would help the people involved in transporting her and the dog to the vet for the procedure.

The morning of the spay appointment, the homeless advocates were able to pick up the woman and her dog and take them to the vet. This was the most important part of the project except for getting the puppies rescued.

Afterward, I'd received enough donations to book four nights in a hotel for the owner to get cleaned up and do some laundry and the mama dog to rest and recover. Seven, the dog, was alert and active and even warmed up to me. When we first met, she was very protective of her pups and the woman, barking and growling if anyone got too close.

Now when she'd see me, she wagged her tail and let me pet her, and even gave me a little kiss if I got close enough.

Donations continued to flow in as people followed the story. I stopped by to see the puppies at the foster's house, and they were full of life and spunk.

A couple were particularly feisty and mischievous. They liked playing tug of war with a towel and one successfully untied my shoe. They picked up pinecones and barked and ran around, sometimes tumbling or sliding down a little hill on their bellies.

I could tell they would all make great family pets one day.

Some of 7-11's puppies after David Scarbrough intervened to help a homeless woman who was struggling with her dogs. David Scarbrough

One pup, however, didn't make it. She had esophagus issues and couldn't keep food down and continually lost weight. We called her Patch. She was a sweet little snuggler.

Four of the puppies were released from the foster to the rescue group, and soon all seven were chipped and received their vaccination shots. They were officially up for adoption.

Less than two months after I first saw them living under a freeway, all seven puppies had been adopted. They were going all over the country—Massachusetts, Washington, New York, West Virginia, and even one here in Houston. The rescue group handled all the vet visits, vaccinations, spay/neuters and adoptions.

The unhoused woman stayed in contact with Harmony House, the homeless advocates, to work on a more stable living arrangement for herself and the dog.

In a short time, a few people made a big difference in the lives of this woman and her dogs.

As one donor wrote: "It's amazing to me that what started out as a post showing the problems of a big city turned into a post on the kindness of a big city. Think how many people drove by and did nothing. But the way people rallied is just wonderful."

David Scarbrough is a small business owner in Houston where he lives with his wife of 27 years, their dog Doug, and their cat Lucy.

All views expressed are the author's own.

As told to Courtenay Rudzinski.

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