How does adopting a dog work?

By Marcus Chen, Pet & Lifestyle Reporter. Former shelter volunteer, current dog dad to three rescues.

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November 8, 2025, 11:30am EST

I adopted my first dog in 2019 from a small shelter in Brooklyn, and honestly? I had no idea what I was doing. The whole thing took maybe forty minutes and I walked out with a 60-pound mutt who I hadn’t even planned on meeting that day. That was Benny. He’s asleep on my feet right now while I type this.

But here’s the thing—my experience isn’t really the norm anymore. The adoption world has gotten way more complicated, and weirdly more bureaucratic, in the last few years. Some of it makes sense. Some of it… well, I’ll get to that.

The Basic Timeline (Which Isn’t Actually That Basic)

Most people think you just walk into a shelter, pick a dog, and leave. That used to be closer to reality. Now the average adoption process takes anywhere from three days to three weeks according to Jennifer Harmon, who runs operations at Best Friends Animal Society in Los Angeles. I spoke with her last week about how things have changed.

“We saw applications triple during COVID and never really go back down,” Harmon told me. “But we also saw return rates spike. Dogs that seemed perfect in a 15-minute meet-and-greet were back within a month because families weren’t prepared for the reality.”

So shelters started adding more steps. Home visits became standard at many rescues. Multi-page applications replaced the old one-pagers. Some places now require three separate meet-and-greets before approval, which—look, I get it, but also that’s a lot when you’re working full-time and the shelter’s only open from 1-5pm on weekdays.

The Application (AKA The Job Interview You Didn’t Apply For)

Here’s where it gets interesting. The application at your local county shelter might ask for basic info—your address, whether you rent or own, if you have a yard. Pretty straightforward. But breed-specific rescues and some private organizations? They want everything short of your credit score.

I’m talking references from your vet, even if you haven’t had a pet in five years. Landlord’s contact info with a written pet policy. Photos of your home. Detailed descriptions of your daily schedule. One rescue in Portland—I won’t name them but you can probably figure it out if you Google around—requires adopters to sign a contract agreeing to feed only grain-free, organic food. Another in Miami has a clause requiring professional training classes within 30 days.

Mark Steinberg at the ASPCA thinks some rescues have gone too far. “We’re trying to find homes for animals, not keep them in shelters indefinitely,” he said when I called him Tuesday. He’d just come from a board meeting where they discussed this exact issue. “Yes, we need to be responsible. But we also need to be realistic. A dog living in an imperfect home is still better than a dog living in a kennel for months.”

The ASPCA recently streamlined their adoption process at their New York location, cutting the average wait time from two weeks to four days. Applications dropped from seven pages to two. They’re monitoring return rates closely—so far they’re actually down slightly, at 11% compared to 13% under the old system.

Money Talks

Adoption fees have also climbed. The shelter I got Benny from charged $75. That same shelter now charges $350 for adult dogs, $450 for puppies. County shelters tend to be cheaper—LA County Animal Care runs adoption specials where fees drop to $20 or even get waived entirely, usually around holidays when kennels are full.

But private rescues can charge significantly more. I’ve seen adoption fees north of $800 for certain breeds, particularly puppies and “desirable” dogs like French Bulldogs or small, fluffy things. The rescues argue this reflects the cost of vetting, spaying/neutering, microchipping, and sometimes behavioral training. Critics say it’s pricing out families who’d provide great homes but can’t drop $800 upfront.

The Home Visit Debate

Home visits are probably the most controversial part of modern adoption. Rachel Kim, a software engineer in Seattle, spent six weeks trying to adopt a medium-sized terrier mix. The rescue required a home visit, but their volunteer couldn’t come for three weeks. Then they rescheduled. Then they wanted a second visit because Rachel’s boyfriend, who lives with her, wasn’t home during the first one.

“I gave up and went to a county shelter,” Kim told me via email. “Adopted a great dog in two days. The rescue called me four months later asking if I was still interested. Like, no, I have a dog now.”

But home visits have their defenders. Sarah Mitchells runs a small rescue in Austin called Second Chance Paws, and she’s seen the value firsthand. “We caught a hoarder through a home visit,” she said. “House was packed floor to ceiling. Woman seemed lovely in the interview, passed the application with flying colors. But there was no physical space for a dog to exist safely in that home.”

Fair point. Though Mitchells admits only about one in fifty home visits reveals something that disqualifies an adopter.

What The Process Actually Looks Like

Let’s walk through a typical adoption at a middle-of-the-road shelter—not the strictest, not the most lenient. This is based on my experience adopting dog number two, Luna, from a rescue in Chicago last year.

Day 1: I browsed their website, saw Luna’s photo, filled out an online application. Took maybe 20 minutes. They asked about my experience with dogs, living situation, activity level, what I was looking for.

Day 3: Got an email saying my application was approved for a meet-and-greet. Scheduled for Day 5.

Day 5: Met Luna with one of my other dogs to see how they got along. This took about an hour. They seemed fine with each other, though Luna was nervous—she’d been in the shelter for seven months at that point.

Day 6: Rescue called my vet to confirm my other dogs were up to date on shots. (This is standard practice and one of the few parts everyone agrees makes sense.)

Day 8: Home visit. Volunteer came over, looked around, met my other dogs in their actual environment. Chatted for maybe 45 minutes, mostly about Luna’s specific needs since she was fearful of men and loud noises.

Day 12: Approved to adopt. Went in, signed paperwork, paid $425, went home with Luna.

The whole thing was nearly two weeks, which felt long but wasn’t terrible. Luna’s still here two years later, so clearly something worked.

The Return Problem Nobody Talks About Enough

Here’s an uncomfortable truth: a lot of adopted dogs get returned. Statistics vary depending on who you ask and how they count, but most estimates put it between 7-20% within the first year. Puppies get returned more often than adult dogs, which surprised me when Harmon mentioned it.

“People think puppies will be easier because they can ‘train them right’ from the start,” she explained. “But puppies are insane amounts of work. Adult dogs are usually house-trained, past the destructive chewing phase, and their personality is established. You know what you’re getting.”

Some shelters have started being more upfront about behavioral issues. Austin Pets Alive! has detailed descriptions of each dog’s quirks on their website—things like “doesn’t like other dogs,” “needs a cat-free home,” “resource guards toys.” It seems obvious but a lot of places used to gloss over problems to increase adoption rates, which just led to returns.

The Foster-to-Adopt Option

More organizations are now offering foster-to-adopt programs, and this might be the smartest evolution in the whole system. You take the dog home on a trial basis—usually two weeks to a month—before committing. During that time, the rescue still technically owns the dog. If it doesn’t work out, no judgment, bring them back. If it does, you finalize the adoption.

Emily Torres fostered a cattle dog mix through a program in Denver and ended up adopting her. “Having that trial period took so much pressure off,” Torres said when we spoke on the phone. “I could see how she did with my cat, whether my apartment was big enough, if I could handle her energy level. By the time I officially adopted her, I was confident it was the right fit.”

The downside? Limited availability. Most rescues don’t have the infrastructure to manage foster-to-adopt programs at scale. And some adopters want the certainty of “this is my dog now,” not the limbo of a trial period.

Breed-Specific Weirdness

Certain breeds face extra scrutiny. Pit bulls and pit mixes—which make up a huge percentage of shelter dogs—often require additional paperwork and sometimes specialized insurance. Some landlords won’t allow them. Some cities have breed-specific legislation that bans them entirely.

This creates a bottleneck. Denver only lifted its pit bull ban in 2021, and shelters there are still working through the backlog of dogs that became adoptable overnight. Miami-Dade County still bans them as of now, which means shelters in that area are perpetually full of pit mixes that can’t be adopted locally.

The flip side: boutique breeds. I’ve seen golden retriever rescues that make you wait six months because demand is so high. One rescue in LA has a literal lottery system for puppies. You apply, they draw names quarterly. It’s wild.

What’s Actually Required (Usually)

Despite all the variability, most shelters and rescues do have some baseline requirements:

You need to be at least 18 or 21, depending on location. You’ll need to show ID. If you rent, you’ll probably need written permission from your landlord—this is the one that kills a lot of applications. Landlords are notoriously difficult about pets, even when the lease technically allows them.

You’ll meet the dog, obviously. Sometimes multiple times, sometimes with your existing pets or family members. You’ll sign an adoption contract—read this carefully because some have clauses about returning the dog to that specific rescue if you ever can’t keep them, even years later.

You’ll pay the adoption fee. Most places take credit cards now, though I’ve been to rural shelters that are cash-only. The fee usually covers spaying/neutering (or a voucher for it), initial vaccines, microchipping, and sometimes a free vet checkup.

Then you take your dog home. Hopefully for the next 10-15 years.

My Completely Subjective Advice

Having done this three times now, here’s what I’ve learned: Start with your local municipal shelter. They tend to have the most straightforward process and the lowest fees. If you’re looking for something specific, check breed-specific rescues but prepare for a longer wait.

Don’t lie on your application. They will find out. They always find out.

Be honest about your lifestyle. If you work 10-hour days and want a high-energy dog that needs two hours of exercise daily, that’s probably not going to work regardless of how cute they are in their photos.

Consider older dogs. They’re statistically less likely to get adopted, which is insane because they’re usually the easiest transition. My third dog, Pepper, was eight when I adopted her. Best decision I ever made. She’s calm, already trained, and just wants to nap on the couch.

And maybe most importantly: the process is supposed to be a little bit difficult. I know it’s frustrating, especially when you see a dog you connect with and just want to take them home right now. But the barriers exist because returns are traumatic for dogs. Getting bounced from home to home messes them up. A few extra days or weeks on the front end can prevent a failed adoption on the back end.

Though I’ll admit, some rescues need to chill out a bit on the requirements. We’re trying to save dogs here, not launch them into space.