Whoop! Whoop! Whoopi found her forever family!
She left early Sunday morning for the 6 1/2 hour drive to her new home in Rhode Island!
We’re already hearing how well she is fitting in and how much she is loved! She has a big fenced yard near the seashore, two kids of her very own, and two fursiblings (weiner dogs! Can you imagine the trio they make?). It’s a great story that makes my heart very happy.
I must admit, it was also nice to finally wash our slobbered windows and not have to jump out of the shower and run downstairs in my towel because I left the butter plate on the counter.
Ginger is still here. My son said the other day, “Maybe no one will adopt her and they’ll forget about her and we can just keep her.” Uh huh. Probably not.
I find it kind of telling that Ginger has lived in four foster homes now and every single foster family wishes they could keep her. She has an uncanny ability to worm her way right into your heart. Her first foster mom (four months ago!) stopped by today to visit her. Ginger hadn’t seen her in almost three months, but recognized her immediately- leaping and squealing with delight and covering Christine with nonstop kisses.
Her second foster mom had to pass her along to me because of impending surgery, but while she recovers she is acting as the adoption coordinator for Gingersnap and every time I see her she says, “We miss Ginger so much. Our house is just not the same.”
Gingersnap’s temporary foster mom, who babysat her while we were away, confessed, “I would totally foster fail with her if I didn’t already have three dogs.”
She’s that special—and yet still no adopter, and of late, no applications.
People – YOU ARE MISSING OUT!
This dog is so crazy cool and so much fun and maybe the most loving dog I’ve ever fostered. What is wrong with you people? Yes, she barks. And yes, she is excitable – prone to slurping on faces and jumping on clean clothes. But this is only because she is, as her recent foster-babysitter put it – 150% love. Truth.
So, we will quietly keep loving on her and enjoying her jubilant company. She’s my running buddy in the mornings, my best watch dog all day long, the evening’s entertainment as she slithers like a snake across the carpet in search of attention, Whoopi’s and now Gracie’s personal face cleaner, and of late, my weeding companion, lying in the shade of the blueberry bushes while I work in the garden. Even the cats have grown used to her and give a half-hearted hiss when she pokes her nose in their faces.
When my oldest fills our kitchen up with college age boys (who are technically men except I’ve known them since they dressed up in Harry Potter costumes and cast spells so they will always be boys to me), Ginger lies amongst them, licking their toes and waiting for the occasional treat. She’s one of the gang.
When I’m writing she lies at my feet beneath my desk or right behind me on the guest bed, the perfect company (and proving to doubters that she can be still for extended periods).
When the cats make any suspicious move on the porch, she alerts us, always the vigilant guard. But these days I can say, “Enough Gingey, we got it,” and she’ll retreat.
I don’t bother with a leash when we go out anymore. I know she won’t leave me. She loves me too much. Sure, she’ll get that cat back up in the tree for me, but then she’ll be right back. She does indulge in occasional staring contests with the chickens, and I’m guessing if given access to them she might take it a step further, but for now she respects the fence that separates them.
This morning I overslept, which is a rarity as I am normally up with the sun. Nick was the first one downstairs and as soon as he let Ginger out of her crate, she bounded up to our room, leapt on our bed, and woke me with kisses. What a happy way to join the world.
So, now that I think about it. Don’t adopt Ginger. Maybe you’ll all forget about her and she can just stay here indefinitely.