Some foster parents prefer a quick turn-around with their foster dogs. They like to get them vetted, listed and find them a home as soon as possible. There is no "right" way, but I prefer my fosters to stay a while. Several times I have had a dog who, for the first month, was the perfect houseguest. Then they got comfortable, and showed me tricks like chasing cats they previously ignored, digging holes in carpets or breaking through crates.
The last few days have found me consumed with worry. Chooch, who was only here for three weeks, appears to be one of those foster dogs who did a terrific job at hiding his true colors. More accurately, I just think the dynamics of people and animals in my house worked for Chooch. There was nothing here that "triggered" him and tons of distraction. I knew he was fearful of men, though not why. But exposure therapy here, with teenagers coming and going, seemed to settle that down some. And, he clearly liked his new Daddy when he came to visit.
It is a different story in Chooch's new home. His new parents are really struggling with him. He is damaged - by having been hit by a car; by being caged too much and too long during the months of recovery. I am suspicious there may have been abuse as well. These wonderful people took so much time choosing the right dog and, really, just had to jump on board a fast moving train for a trip they weren't prepared to take. They are doing a beautiful job with him; really going the extra mile, but I feel badly for them. Suddenly their whole lives have changed and this animal who they anticipated would bring joy into their lives also brought major challenges and worry. I know I chose the right people for Chooch because they are approaching these unanticipated difficulties with compassion. They clearly love him. I hope they are able to keep him, but this is one of those time will tell kind of things. If they are unable to keep him, the fault will clearly land on the human beings who, in so many ways, betrayed Chooch in his early life.
Meanwhile, another "puzzle" has joined the foster house here. I was finally able to bring Tasha home. Oh how I wish these critters could just tell us what they are thinking and how they are feeling. If they could, Tasha might explain to me why she refuses to eat anything but boiled chicken. I spend much of my time trying to get calories into this beautiful but frighteningly thin dog.For the first few days I had Tasha, I couldn't get her to leave her crate. I figured out why one day when I coaxed her to follow me into the kitchen. She stopped right at the entry way and absolutely wouldn't take one more step. Then it hit me. I am certain this girl, wherever she used to live, was not allowed on carpet, furniture or in the kitchen. She is only comfortable in her crate, where she knows she wont get in trouble. If I lock her out of the crate, she looks tortured and it takes lots of coaxing and reassuring to get her to lay down on the carpet for a belly rub.
I bought her a great big dog bed for the living room so she can technically be "off" the carpet, but still be out of her crate. That seems to work, though she rushes from the crate to her bed like her feet are on fire. Our biggest breakthrough so far happened just last night. Tasha slept on my bed all night. She insists on sleeping with her rear at the top of her bed and her head pointed toward the door, in case she has to make a quick run for it. What happened to this girl that makes her so consumed with worry and always looking for an escape route?
I am hoping Tasha remains with me long enough that I can solve her puzzle. In the meantime, I am content with seeing her content as she lays on her big, new dog bed. She's just as sweet as she is beautiful. I so want her to have a worry-free life. I want to see her freely roam the house and yard without any fear of repercussion in her eyes. I want her to look at me and know, from the bottom of her heart, that I would never hurt or scare her. I don't think that is something she's ever known from another human -- and that makes me sad.
When I am consumed with worry about my critters, nothing is more uplifting than an update from someone who adopted a former foster. Just at the depth of my worries this week with recent placements and trying to figure out Tasha, I received an update from the family who adopted Bosley, a sweet little Bichon I fostered several months ago. Bosley was surrendered by an older couple who just didn't have enough energy for the little guy. They were heartbroken letting him go and requested that I try to find him a home where he would have a little boy or girl to play with.
As it happened, a sweet little boy and his mom were looking for the perfect dog. This little boy was really in need of a best friend - and he fell in love with Bosley at an adoption event. I will never forget how excited he was when he tugged on my shirt and told me Bosley was his dog.
All these months later, Bosley is still his dog. His mom reports that Bosley is constantly by his side, even waiting patiently next to the bathtub when his boy is taking a bath. Every few months, I receive a photo update that just makes my week. These photos are now up on my desk as a reminder of the happy endings I hope for for every one of my fosters . . .
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