Funniest. Commerical. Ever.

I needed cheering up Sunday night, and a visit to YouTube did the trick. This never loses it's funny, no matter how many times you watch it.

I bring you Cat Herders . . .

Angel . . .

If you are a regular "Almost Home" reader, you know by now I am a total wimp; that as dedicated as I am to animal rescue and as much as I love my fosters, their adoption days are never really a celebration for me. Although I know it is good in the grand scheme of things, on the day of adoption, I miss my dog. I am sad. I drive home without him or her, sit in my driveway for a while before I have to face the empty crate or dogbed inside, and curse fostering. I need twenty-four hours to be inconsolable. It's just the way it is with me.

Tonight, I am missing Angel, who today found a home. The first night is always the worst. Is she missing me? What if there is a storm tonight and she is scared? Will her new people know how to comfort her? Will they love her as much as I do and laugh at her silliness? Will they tolerate her quirks and accept her stubbornness?

Angel and I had this thing we'd do; I'd turn on the radio and she'd jump up on me, with her paws on my hips and we'd dance around the living room together. I swear, she'd smile all the while.

Tonight, I am missing my Angel. I hope she has a wonderful life and gets to dance again.

Fostering Life

A year ago, I was sort of a Heartland "groupie." I'd adopted three kitties from Heartland and, despite intentions to the contrary, when I was out and about Saturdays my car would somehow steer itself into the PetSmart parking lot because I knew the dogs would be there. There were lots of calls home about this or that dog, but because my other-half is as big a sucker as me, he was smart enough to stay clear. We sponsored a German Shepherd Dog via Heartland for a while (he was taken off the adoptable list due to terminal cancer), and that sort of satiated the need to become more involved. For a while.

I was like many of the customers I now talk with on Saturdays. I said I could never be a foster parent because I couldn't handle fostering a dog or cat and then watching him or her leave. I just knew I'd keep them all or quit because the heartbreak of losing them would be too much.

My first foster dogs were totally accidental and, I swore, only temporary. And my heart did break letting them go, just as I knew it would. But the minute they were gone, all I could see were the endless amount of homeless animals without a foster home and all I could imagine were the dogs and cats at the local pounds who would be euthanized without a rescue group having space to save them. So, I took in more dogs and began fostering cats and kittens as well.

For me, it doesn't get easier. My heart breaks regularly. The goodbyes suck and I cry a lot. But I went in knowing that and accepted it was the price one must pay for creatures who have already paid a horrendous price just for existing -- and for being brought into this world mostly by people who don't cry for them.

And there is a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment knowing that in almost a year I have placed somewhere around forty animals in forever homes. I am not saying that to toot my own horn, please understand that I could care less if anyone but my foster animals is aware of what I do. But, I am saying that in the hopes of appealing to someone out there who is saying "I couldn't handle being a foster, I'm too soft."

The animals need that softness; need someone to cry for them. And if you are, like I once was, wanting to help but afraid being "in the trenches" of animal rescue might just be too emotionally difficult, rethink what those feelings mean. Perhaps, it is simply the finger of fate pointing at you and choosing you for the job.

(Me, saying goodbye to my foster kitty, Ace)