I was never really a dog person. It’s not that I disliked dogs—I just never had one in my life. Then came Duncan, and everything changed.

We met Sir Duncan at a shelter. He was the last of the “royalty dogs,” as they were called—the survivors of an animal abuse and abandonment case that had shocked the community in July 2018. We both remember that day so clearly. We walked down the row of kennels, and every dog was barking, jumping, and wagging their tails, desperate for attention. But there, in one of the kennels, sat Duncan—a Labrador-beagle mix. He barked just once, then lay down, looking so defeated. His eyes told a story of hardship and resilience that pulled at our hearts.

A day later we returned to the shelter, unable to get Duncan out of our minds. We knew we had to bring him home.

Duncan was one of 19 dogs rescued from that terrible situation. Of the 38 animals found in a vacant home, five had died, and the remaining 32—19 dogs and 13 cats—were taken in by volunteers at the Cherryland Humane Society, who bathed, groomed, and assessed them for adoption. Duncan had been through so much. He had porcupine quills embedded in his neck, bite marks, and scars from fighting other dogs for food. The shelter staff explained that Duncan was likely born in that house and had lived his entire two years there, alone and unattended. His title, “Sir,” was a small way of acknowledging the battles he had survived.

At first, Duncan didn’t know how to be a pet. He would hide or run away, wolf down his food like it might disappear, and oftentimes would take a mouthful to an out of the way place in our house to hide and eat. He didn’t even know how to play. But over time, he began to trust us. Slowly, his fear turned into curiosity, his wariness into affection.