I recently had an opportunity to meet with the dog I believed to be mine. This is the dog I believed might be Smokey—the one whose resemblance was so striking that even I couldn’t be sure at first. I went in with hope, with love, and with a heart that just needed the truth—whatever that truth was. To stand there—completely vulnerable and raw—in front of Stephen Heaven, the very man who had already mocked and disrespected me before, was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. He sat there watching, along with Erika Cook, and the adoptive family I had never even met, while I tried to look this dog in the eyes and call him “Smokey.” I was shaking. I was exposed. And I had to do all of that with the very people watching me who had made me feel crazy for even believing he might still be out there. That moment broke something in me. That’s how closely this dog resembled mine. I had no choice but to hold onto the possibility—it had been dragged out for so long. But it wasn’t him. The dog had no spots on his tongue—and Smokey absolutely did. They tried to convince me otherwise, but even in one of their own photos, I saw what looked like a dark spot. But how could I trust them? How could I trust people who treated me with cruelty, mockery, and calculated emotional harm from the beginning? And still, that wasn’t the worst part of the day. What happened during the meeting with Stephen Heaven, CEO of the Toledo Humane Society, was not just cold—it was hostile, calculated, and emotionally abusive from the very start. As soon as I arrived, I told him directly: “I’m not comfortable with your presence.” And his response? “I’m the CEO. If you’re uncomfortable, you can leave. I’m staying.” No empathy. No professionalism. No compassion—just ego and control. Later, I told him the truth that no one else had the courage to say: “The way you and your staff have treated me—the ignoring, the dismissing, the coldness—could push someone to suicide. Or even to violence. Words like that can break people.” Stephen Heaven looked me in the eyes—and shrugged. No apology. No concern. Nothing. But it gets worse. After hearing all of that—after being warned about the risk of someone taking their own life—he waited until I lowered my camera, looked directly at me… and made the “crazy” gesture. Finger twirled at his temple. Smirk on his face. He knew it wouldn’t be recorded. He wanted to get away with it. This wasn’t some isolated lapse in judgment. He had already mistreated me once—and when he got the chance to face me again, he made it worse. He didn’t show up to apologize. He didn’t show up to listen. He showed up to put me in my place. To humiliate me one more time—because he could. And what that said to me—clear as day—was this: “I don’t care if you go home and kill yourself.” That’s not just disrespect. That’s not just ableism. That is emotional violence, and it came from the CEO of a place that calls itself “humane.” I also told him: “You owe me an apology.” And once again—he shrugged. Neither he nor Erika Cook showed a shred of care for my emotional state—not in emails, not in meetings, not at any point. Instead, they dragged this situation out for months, when they could’ve ended it with a single act of decency. And here’s what hurts even more: 👉 These were months I could’ve spent searching other shelters. 👉 Real time was lost—because they made it all so hard. 👉 Their refusal to act stole more than my peace. It may have stolen my chance. And make no mistake: 👉 The only reason this meet and greet happened is because the adoptive family got tired of seeing my posts. They showed compassion. The Toledo Humane Society did not. And to the adoptive family—I say again: I’m sorry. This was never about you. It was about a broken system, a stonewalling shelter, and people in power who acted without humanity. I never wanted a war with the Toledo Humane Society. I never imagined I’d be starting a petition to reform shelter laws. But here I am. Standing in the fire, and standing up for what’s right. Because if this is how they treat someone like me—grieving, kind, determined—then I can’t even imagine how they treat people with no voice at all. I was wrong about the dog. But I was never wrong for searching. I was never wrong for loving. And I was NEVER crazy. This is the beginning of something they never expected. This concludes my experience with the Toledo Humane Society, trying to determine if a dog that was adopted out was my missing dog.Or so I thought!!! Watch for the next update!!! #JusticeForSmokey #SmokeysLaw #HealingBrokenHearts #RemoveStephenHeaven #FireErikaCook #toledoohio #CrueltyIsNotLeadership #YouCouldHaveEndedThis #ReformNow #toledoohio419 #THSBoardDoYourJob #HoldTheBoardAccountable #toledo #animallover #animals #animalrightsactivist #animalrightsmovement #animaljustice #dog #doglover #germanshepherdpuppy #germanshepherdlove #germanshepherdsofinstagram https://chng.it/PhKcmsjvPr