You make many sacrifices when you foster dogs. That’s the truth of it. The sacrifices are generally worth it, but they’re a reality.
I think it’s expected that we make sacrifices for causes or events or creatures that are important to us—maybe that’s how we know what’s important to us — we don’t mind the sacrifices (much).
I’m continually amazed at what people will sacrifice for their pets, and humbled by what other foster parents will do for their foster dogs. I definitely do not have the market cornered on suffering or stress endured at the hands (paws) of my foster dogs.
Thelma is a joy. A love. An absolute sweetheart. She rocked the K9&Kds event today, charming everyone, young and old. Watch how she handles the attention of the children at our Fourth of July party (fireworks did not phase her, btw, more evidence of her easy-going and tolerant soul).
Note: This is a lot for a foster dog (or any dog) to not just tolerate, but to invite. Thelma followed these two around all night, thriving on their ‘attention,’ but she (and the children) were supervised.
As evidenced, Thelma is quite a remarkably rare dog.
Hula, who you will remember arrived deathly thin, riddled with worms and nursing three puppies, is a new dog. She has gained weight, her coat has a nice gloss, and there are no traces of her mommy-life. She is full-on puppy and always ready to play. She is also always ready to steal socks. She pilfers them out of dirty laundry baskets and from where they hide, abandoned in a ball under the couch. Once in her possession, she challenges Frankie or Flannery to a game of tug of war.
I find myself yelling these words again and again these days. Hula Hoop is no longer the quiet, calm, exhausted, worm-addled, nursing mama dog. Now, she is full-on puppy.
In the past week, she’s eaten my running gloves (luckily they went right through – eww, definitely shopping for a new pair), devoured the faux-fur edge of one of my slippers, continued the assault on my dog-walking shoes begun by John Jacob (see picture), and Continue reading Hey, That’s Enough, Settle Down!
And the dog wheel goes round and round. The only thing consistent is the color of all these dogs – black.
When I turned up at the OPH event in York this past Sunday, it seemed like a bit of a racist event – all black dogs. Well, to be honest, there were a couple brown dogs and even one tiny white (and black!) dog named (appropriately) Sylvester, but they were all on the smaller size, so they were eclipsed by sheer size and number of big, black dogs.
If OPH has a trademark dog is must be “black lab mix.” BLMs are prevalent in the site’s listings on most days. Nothing wrong with a BLM, mind you, I’m just a hound girl myself.
Bernie landed in a stellar forever home on Sunday. She’s got an adorable, like-sized fursister to hang with and two of her very own children! Her new family was super nice and they seemed like a perfect fit. They sent me pictures later in the day that clearly showed Bernie (now Zora) is making herself right at home. Happy for Bern!
With Bernie’s departure, we welcomed our fourth BLM of 2016 on Sunday. Catalina is a skinny (seriously skinny), leggy, long-nosed girl who resembles a German shepherd in her size/shape/nose length, but has the short black coat of a lab. She’s spent the last week in a local boarding facility as there was no room in the foster inn.
When I met Catalina, she was nervously guarding her own personal space at the event – happy to meet people, but snarling at dogs that crowded her. Perhaps a week in boarding, after a month or two in a shelter, had made her a little defensive and suspicious. Being shuffled like a number and lodged with other nervous strangers in noisy unfamiliar quarters would make me touchy, too, so I tried not to judge. Just took her leash and carted her quaking self home. Continue reading BLM (Black Lab Mix)- the Catchall Breed of Rescue Dogs