Six days ago, you helped us name a beautiful litter of 11 Heeler puppies. You looked at their little faces, suggested names, voted for your favorites, and helped give each one an identity of their own. We had no idea that just a short time later, we would be fighting so desperately to make sure each of those names had a future.

Shortly after they were named, the puppies began showing symptoms that told us something was very wrong. I've been involved in animal rescue for nearly 20 years, and there are few words that make your heart sink quite like parvovirus. When our testing confirmed what we were afraid of, we were devastated. Parvo is brutal. It is ruthless. It can take a happy, wiggly puppy and make them critically ill frighteningly fast. It's exactly why puppy vaccinations are so incredibly important. We knew what we were facing, we knew there were no guarantees, and as a team, we made a decision together. We were going to fight for all 11 of them.

Eleven puppies means 11 individual patients. Eleven little bodies needing fluids, medications, prescription food, frequent feedings, temperature checks, hydration checks, constant monitoring, clean bedding, and hands-on supportive care throughout the day and night. It means walking into that isolation room over and over again, hoping that this time you'll see a brighter pair of eyes, a puppy standing on their own, a little tail wagging, or someone finally deciding that food sounds good again. In a week when our shelter still has so many other animals depending on us, we have doubled our staffing, and we've gone through a significant amount of our medical supplies, medications, fluids, prescription food, and other necessities to give these babies every chance we possibly can. And we would do it again. Because somewhere in the exhaustion, there has also been so much love.

Many of us haven't had a day off. We haven't been sleeping much. We've cried in each other's arms. We've carried one another through some incredibly difficult moments. But we've also cheered over things that might seem impossibly small to anyone outside of animal rescue. A puppy taking a few bites of food. Someone standing up when yesterday they couldn't. A little more energy. A brighter set of eyes. A tail wag. In this room, those tiny victories feel enormous. They are little pieces of hope, and right now, we are collecting every single one we can get.

And I need to say something about the people who have been doing this work. Many of our staff are young animal rescuers, and they have never seen parvo before. They knew what parvo was. They knew what it could do. But knowing about it and standing in the middle of it are two very different things.

Every morning, they opened that door in the face of uncertainty, not knowing what they were going to find on the other side. They didn't know which puppy would be brighter, which one might have declined overnight, or what that day would ask of them. And still, they opened the door. Again and again. They put on their gowns and gloves. They picked up the fluids and medications. They cleaned, fed, monitored, comforted, and loved these puppies. They learned quickly. They asked questions. They leaned on each other. They cried when they needed to, and then they went back in. Their tenacity, compassion, and excellence have been truly awe-inspiring. I have spent nearly two decades in animal rescue, and watching this team step into something this difficult and rise to meet it has made me incredibly proud. These puppies could not have asked for a more determined group of people standing between them and this virus.

We also know that parvo is a reality of saving dogs. When you open your doors to vulnerable animals, especially puppies who haven't yet had the opportunity to complete their vaccine series, sometimes heartbreak walks through those doors too. We know that comes with the territory. We know we cannot save every animal who needs us. But knowing that doesn't make losing them hurt any less.

Despite everything we did, we lost two of our babies. We grieve them deeply. Their lives mattered, even though they were far too short, and they were loved fiercely while they were ours. But grief and hope can live in the same room. Because  nine puppies are still here.

Nine puppies woke up today with people fighting for them. Nine puppies still have the possibility of growing up, finding families, learning what couches are for, destroying a shoe or two, going on adventures, and becoming somebody's very best friend. Nine little names still have entire stories waiting to be written. And we are going to do everything we can to help them write those stories.

Right now, we are asking our community to stand beside us again. We are hoping to raise $7,000 toward their parvo care, approximately $636 per puppy, to help replenish and cover medications, fluids, prescription food, medical supplies, veterinary care, additional staffing, specialized treatments, and the intensive supportive care this battle has required. Hospital-level parvo treatment can easily begin around $1,500 for just one puppy and climb significantly from there. Caring for a litter this large has been an enormous undertaking, but every dollar we've been able to stretch inside our shelter has meant another treatment, another meal, another bag of fluids, another day, and another chance.

We know we've asked a lot of this community lately. And somehow, every time we wonder how we're going to do the next impossible thing, you remind us that we don't have to do it alone. You donate. You adopt. You share our posts. You bring us supplies. You send encouraging messages. You celebrate our victories, and when things hurt, you hurt alongside us. You have shown up for BENCHS over and over again, and there aren't enough words to explain what that means to the people inside these walls.

We wish we didn't have to ask again so soon. But when 11 little lives were placed in our hands, we couldn't look at them and decide that trying was too expensive, too exhausting, or too difficult. So we chose hope. We chose the long nights. We chose the extra shifts. We chose the medications and fluids and endless loads of laundry. We chose to cry together when it hurt and walk back through that door anyway. We chose to believe that tomorrow might bring another tail wag, another bite of food, another puppy turning the corner. And today,  nine of them are still fighting.

Six days ago, this community helped give these puppies their names. Today, we're asking you to help us give those names a future. If you can donate, thank you. If you can share their story, thank you. If all you can do is send a little hope their way, thank you for that too. Every bit of love surrounding these puppies reminds our tired team why we keep walking back into that room.

There has been heartbreak this week, but there has been hope, too. And right now, hope has nine little heartbeats. We're going to keep fighting for every single one of them.