There's something about Morgie

There was something about Morgen from the very beginning.
​
She arrived here at the end of February 2026 with her puppies, having come from a backyard breeder. We didn't know her yet. She didn't know us. She had absolutely no reason to believe that these strange people, strange dogs and strange place were safe.

Yet she did.

That first night, Morgen lay down with her puppies next to her. 

It sounds terribly Disney-ish to say that you could see the relief and gratitude coming from a dog, but there really isn't another way to describe it. Her whole body seemed to say it.
Okay. We're safe. I can rest.

Over the next few days, we watched this incredibly gentle girl hand over some of the responsibility she had been carrying. She let us help with her puppies. Remarkably, she even let the other dogs help with them. She would lie nearby and gently watch what was going on, seemingly perfectly content that her babies were being cared for.
There was no panic. No hovering. No suspicion. Just complete trust.
Perhaps that was the first something about Morgie.

Mama Morgen

Morgen was an extraordinary mother.
The kind of mother whose patience seemed to have no end.
Her puppies could climb all over her. They could nibble at her mouth, bite her feet, squash themselves against her and generally behave like the tiny hooligans that puppies are, and she allowed it.
Whatever they needed from her, Mama was there.
Even after her puppies left, they continued coming back to visit every week, right up until the day before Morgen herself left us.
She was always pleased to see them. And always, before anything else, she would check them over. A little inspection from Mama. Then, apparently satisfied that everyone was still present and correct, she could relax.
During the past months, we also had the privilege of watching something else happen. We got to watch Morgen discover that she was more than a mother.
Her puppies had spent their short little lives learning from her, but somehow they began teaching her too. They taught her how to play. How to be silly. How to be a puppy.
And gradually this beautiful combination emerged — wisdom and playfulness, perfectly entwined. Morgen never stopped being nurturing. It seemed woven into her. She mothered and cared for the other dogs around her too. But slowly, she began allowing them to nurture her. She played more. Her personality grew bigger. She blossomed.
It felt as though we were watching Morgen find Morgen.

​And then there was David

Of course, while all this personal growth and self-discovery was taking place, Morgen had also made one extremely important decision. She had chosen her human. David.

​There was apparently no consultation required. Morgen adored him.
She became his shadow. She slept curled up in his arms. She sat at his feet and stared up at him with that look that made it perfectly clear that, as far as Morgen was concerned, this particular human was quite possibly the finest creature ever placed upon the earth.
She wanted to be close to him. Always.
And when she wanted attention from him, she had this wonderful little Morgen way of asking for it.
She'd sit at his feet and shift her weight from one front paw to the other, side to side, almost as though she were trying desperately to contain all the excitement inside her.
Most mornings Morgen would climb onto the bed and put her head directly over his face.
Apparently subtlety was unnecessary when requesting morning cuddles.
Those are the things you miss. The tiny things.
The things that aren't particularly important until suddenly there isn't a Morgen standing at your feet shifting from paw to paw with quiet adoration in her eyes anymore.

She just trusted us
​
Her time with us wasn't entirely easy.
Morgen had a difficult sterilisation. We discovered that she had Ehrlichiosis. There were vet visits and physio sessions and all the things that come with getting a rescue dog healthy and ready for the rest of her life.
She took every single one of them in her stride. Cool, calm and collected. Cooperative. Trusting.
There was never a point where it felt as though we had to convince Morgen that we were trying to help her.
She simply trusted that we were.
That trust is probably one of the things we'll remember most about her.
Because it had been there since the first moment. Before we'd even earned it.

So why didn't we keep her?

That's perhaps the obvious question. We loved her. She loved us. She adored David.
She fitted into our home as though she'd always been part of it.
Why let her go? Because loving a foster dog isn't supposed to mean finding a reason they should stay with you.
Sometimes loving them properly means recognising that someone else can give them something you can't. And Morgen deserved more.
She deserved a home where she didn't have to share her humans with quite so many other dogs. She deserved the one-on-one attention she craved. Someone's feet to sit at without "competition". Someone's face to smother in the morning without having to wait for others to have their turn. Arms that could belong to her all night. Her own people.

And then we received an assessment form Elana.
We read it. And we knew.
If somebody had handed us a blank piece of paper and said, Write down the perfect home for Morgen, what we would have written would have looked almost exactly like what was sitting in front of us. Actually, this was better. Then we spoke to the family.
And we knew even more. There was no feeling of having to persuade ourselves that this was right.
It was simply a perfect match — for Morgen and for them.
Morgie had found her people. We knew it in our hearts. 

Going Home

And so, on 14 August, David and I took Morgen to Cape Town International Airport.
Think for a moment about what that experience must be like for a dog who has never done it before. A lift. A parking garage. Cars and trolleys and strange noises. Automatic doors. An airport full of people and smells and sounds she couldn't possibly understand.
And Morgen?
Morgen trotted along beside us as though she'd been flying between Cape Town and Johannesburg every other weekend for years.

We were ridiculously excited for her. There wasn't an ounce of doubt. There wasn't that horrible little voice asking whether this is REALLY the perfect decision. 
We knew where she was going. We knew who was waiting. We knew this was right.

Of course we knew how much we were going to miss her. But sometimes happiness and sadness aren't opposites. Sometimes they sit right beside each other.
We could miss her terribly and still be completely, overwhelmingly happy that she was leaving.
Meanwhile, before Morgen's flight had even taken off from Cape Town, her new dad was already waiting for her at the airport in Johannesburg.
That mattered to us more than he probably realised.

Then came the message that she'd landed. Then that he had her. Then home. Then the introductions.
Her new sister accepted her beautifully. And Morgen settled in almost immediately.
Of course she did.
We like to imagine that somewhere in that first little while, Morgen had that same feeling we'd seen on her very first night with us all those months ago.
That same exhale.
Okay.
I'm safe.
Only this time there was something else.
I'm home.

There's something about Morgie
​
We've tried to explain it.
Maybe after all these words, we still haven't.
There was a warmth about Morgen that is difficult to describe.
Pure love.
Wisdom and playfulness.
Gratitude.
Adoration.
An extraordinary capacity to nurture, coupled with this beautiful willingness to trust enough to let herself be nurtured too.
You didn't simply become fond of Morgen. She got in.

There are dogs you meet.
There are dogs you love.
There are dogs you will remember for the rest of your life.
And then, every so often, there is a dog who somehow penetrates your soul.
​
There's something about Morgie.
There always was and always will be. 
Thank you for trusting us with your babies, beautiful girl.
Thank you for trusting us with you.
Thank you for letting us watch you rest.
For letting us watch you heal.
For letting us watch you learn to play.
For letting us watch you discover yourself.
And, eventually, for letting us be the people who took you to the airport and sent you towards the life that had been waiting for you.
You are the most special mama and soul companion anyone could wish for.
We were never supposed to be your final destination.
We were just incredibly lucky to be one of the stops along the way.
​
And now, our Morgie is home.