I'm a rescue advocate who won't say "adopt don't shop"

Why I support the overall movement but not the specific phrase

I’m nervous to publish this. The greatest backlash I ever faced on the internet came from determined “adopt don’t shop” proclaimers. But I’ve been gathering these thoughts for over a year now, scattering them in various places (an Instagram comment section here, a direct message there, a conversation with Sean in between), and it’s time to organize one coherent piece.

My rescue advocacy

I wish this wasn’t necessary, but let me start with some ethos building. I am a rescue advocate. I’m the reason my parents brought home our family’s special-needs husky, Snort, in 2017. In 2019 I adopted Scout from the same shelter. For years my birthday and Christmas presents—those I ask for and those I give—have involved sponsoring shelter pets. When I created a bunch of double exposure edits for folks on Instagram in my earliest days on the platform, my “price” was donating to a shelter or rescue. In 2022 my partner and I fostered five dogs (one of them twice when she came back to the shelter after her first adoption), and the only reason we stopped is because responsibly fostering is impossible in our van. I’ve encouraged friends to check out local shelters or try a foster-to-adopt approach when they say they want a pet. When I created a flowchart outlining the rough thought process I take prospective dog owners through, three of four conclusions were some version of rescue. My favorite social media partnership this year was with The Man That Rescues Dogs sanctuary.

Point is: I love rescue dogs. My own and others.

What I don’t love is the wording of adopt don’t shop. I’m a language nerd—semantics, personal connotations, and phrasing are important. And I think this mantra hurts more than it helps.

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A movement with the best of intentions—but too broad a scope

“Adopt don’t shop” began in the 80’s to encourage people to visit shelters or rescues instead of purchasing animals from pet stores. Traditional pet stores are notoriously unpleasant places; they often support puppy mills and questionable (if not downright inhumane) breeding practices. I concur that adopting is always a better option than walking into the first “Puppies R Us” you see.

The issue is that “shopping” has come to include far more than problematic pet stores. Today when people say “don’t shop” they usually mean “don’t obtain a dog from any avenue that isn’t rescue”. But there are good breeders out there—not to mention thoughtful guardians with valid reasons to support an ethical breeding program. (More on the very complex, nuanced topic of breeding and rescuing in this older piece.)

The “don’t” in “adopt don’t shop” comes across as vilifying anyone who chooses to shop, regardless of how they do it. The phrase advocates for one (absolutely important) option by inherently putting another (valid alternative) down.

That false dichotomy ostracizes fellow dog lovers. What would actually be best for our companions? Working together—ethical breeders, responsible rescues, nerdy and average dog parents everywhere—for the good of the species we love. I know that sounds like a rosy vision, but it’s a core tenet of how I want to move through the world. We spend too much time asking if we align on every detail and not enough thinking practically about our core values. We fail to consider how much more we can achieve in partnership.

Imagine if instead of devoting our energy to internet arguments, we identified the most impactful issues facing modern pet ownership—like resource accessibility (vet care, education, food, housing, etc)—and collectively channeled our efforts there.

We don’t have to promote one thing at the expense of another.

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Language is messy

Given our species’ seemingly limitless ability to be rude and hurtful, it’s impossible to avoid every phrase that’s ever been used to bully. People have been horrible to me under the “adopt don’t shop” banner; I’ve heard of others being attacked beneath the “adopt or shop responsibly” one; no sentence is safe.

But we can do our best to understand if mantras have been widely poisoned and adjust our language accordingly (much like how we want to avoid using poisoned cues with our dogs).

And we can recognize that certain phrases better lend themselves to cruel co-option. Saying “adopt or shop responsibly” in a malicious way to someone with a shelter dog totally misses the point. Half the phrase is “adopt”; there’s nothing in the wording to suggest rescue negativity. But venomously saying “adopt don’t shop” to someone who went through an ethical breeder feels like a feature… not a bug.

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Empathy, not hypocrisy

A final thought: In my experience, the venn diagram of “people who get upset when someone doesn't want to adopt a puppy of unknown lineage from a shelter because no one can tell how big they're going to be as an adult” and “people who shame someone for being forced to give up their pet due to landlord-imposed size restrictions” is pretty circular.

We have to be kinder. We have to embrace more nuance.

There are many reasons someone might look for certain traits in their next dog. (Housing restrictions come to mind after our experiences fostering mixed breed puppies; I couldn’t promise prospective adopters a reliable size estimate.) If we really care about people and animals? We should be happy about folks making thoughtful decisions to maximize the odds of permanent placement and minimize heartbreak.

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Phrases I like better than “adopt don’t shop”

“Make adoption your first option” or “opt to adopt”

These emphasize the importance of considering a rescue or shelter—without attaching a don’t ever do this implication to going through an ethical breeder.

Simply “adopt”

This single word is what Scout’s humane society puts on their apparel. It supports their mission without pitting it against anything else.

“Adopt or shop responsibly”

“Or” validates multiple avenues of acquiring a dog while “responsibly” emphasizes pursuing them in a way that doesn’t contribute to shelter overpopulation.