From forgotten to forever: Sculley’s story

Written by Amy Gooden, Adoptions Manager: Animal Anti-Cruelty League – Durban & Pietermaritzburg

At Animal Anti-Cruelty League (AACL) – Durban & Pietermaritzburg Branch, we see numerous animals pass through our doors every year. Some are with us for days, others for weeks. And then there are the ones like Sculley who wait much, much longer…

Sculley arrived over two years ago, after being found wandering the streets of Hammarsdale. A large Labrador-cross, Sculley cut an imposing figure, but behind those strong features was a dog full of loyalty and longing. Despite every effort to trace his original owners, no one came forward to claim him. And so, he stayed.

For more than 24 months Sculley became a part of the AACL – Durban & Pietermaritzburg Branch family. He watched countless dogs come and go – puppies adopted in a heartbeat, small dogs scooped up quickly, others chosen just because they fit someone’s checklist. But Sculley waited. Patiently. Quietly. Always hopeful that his day would come.

Despite his size, Sculley was gentle at heart. He craved connection, and when he trusted you, he gave his whole heart. We held out hope because we knew that the right person would see him. And then, one ordinary day, someone did. Amanda came looking for a small dog. What she didn’t know was that she was about to meet the dog who’d waited 947 days for someone just like her. At first, she too passed by Sculley.

But fate, as it often does in the world of rescue, had other plans. By the time they circled back to his enclosure, Sculley walked up to the gate and leaned his head forward. That single moment changed everything. We’d seen many people meet Sculley over the years. But never like this. It was as if he knew. As if he’d waited all this time just for her. Today, Sculley is no longer a shelter dog. He’s a family member.

As you read the heart-felt words of Sculley’s new mom, know that behind every “happily ever after” is a story of waiting, of hope, and of quiet resilience. Sculley’s story reminds us that sometimes the dog that you never expected is the one that changes your life. We couldn’t be prouder of Sculley. He waited, and he was finally chosen – not just by a person, but by a family. And in return, he gave them his whole heart. Welcome home, big boy. You were always worth the wait.

The Missing Piece: Our Journey With Sculley

Written by Amanda Santos

Professional photography by Clickit! Imaging

Where do I begin my journey with Sculley?

At first, I was simply looking for a small dog or a puppy – someone to keep me company at home, a gentle companion who could fit easily into our lives. It was never meant to be a life-changing decision. Just a casual scroll through TikTok on an ordinary day led me to AACL – Durban & Pietermaritzburg Branch’s page where I saw a video of a litter of puppies running around. Something about it made me pause. I clicked through, expecting maybe to find a small pup to adopt.

That’s when I realised AACL was a rescue shelter. And truthfully? That gave me pause. I told myself I wasn’t ready for a dog with a traumatic past. The thought of shouldering that emotional responsibility felt overwhelming. But curiosity has a way of sneaking in where logic says no.

So, I followed through. I had the home inspection done, and we made the 45-minute drive, “just to look”. I had no intention of falling in love with a dog that day – especially not with that dog.

When we arrived, we were greeted by Adoptions Manager Amy Gooden, who introduced us to a few of the dogs. To my disappointment, there were no puppies left, no small dogs available for adoption. I met one beautiful dog who looked perfect on paper, but we didn’t connect. I started to feel deflated. Maybe this wasn’t meant to be after all.

But Amy had one more area to show us – the last few dogs that hadn’t been introduced yet. That’s when I saw him: Sculley. Truthfully, I walked right past him at first. He was massive, far bigger than I’d imagined adopting, and he was barking aggressively at another dog. My instinct told me no. Definitely not him.

But fate has a way of changing your mind.

By the time we looped back around to his enclosure, Sculley had calmed down. He came to the edge of the cage quietly, leaned his big head forward, and just wanted a scratch. I reached out, placed my hand gently on his head, and the moment I touched him, I felt it – he was my dog. I didn’t choose him. He chose me.

A week later, Sculley came home. I had to shift all my expectations – find a bed big enough, make space for him in every sense of the word. But when we opened the front door, he walked in like he’d always belonged there. It wasn’t just a house anymore. It was “his” home.

Adjusting wasn’t without its challenges. Sculley turned out to be a very picky eater. He rejected dog kibble outright, so now I cook his meals from scratch. He even expects me to sit with him while he eats, and only when he’s satisfied will he flop over and demand tummy rubs. He’s 70kg of stubborn, loving, food-snubbing personality – and somehow, all of it fits perfectly with ours.

I used to imagine having a big dog as a guard dog – intimidating, protective, maybe a little aloof. But Sculley? He barks at birds, not people. He melts into the arms of anyone who’ll give him affection. He’s the gentle giant with a heart too big for his body. My husband and I often joke that he took after me with being a picky eater, and after him with being stubborn.

For years, my husband and I have longed to grow our family. We’ve battled infertility for longer than I care to count. There’s a particular kind of grief that comes with that – a silent ache for something you can’t control, a space in your heart that remains unfilled.

But then Sculley came along. And somehow, without words, he filled that space.

He was the missing piece we never knew we needed.

Now, as a family of three, I can’t imagine life any other way. Our home is louder, messier, filled with fur and laughter and the rhythmic thud of a heavy tail against the walls. But more than that, it’s whole.

Sculley didn’t just become our dog. He became our healing. Our joy. Our family.