Our adventures as a foster dog family
“Ah. I can’t do this anymore!” I wailed at Nick after I cleaned up puppy diarrhea coated on every square inch of the puppy pen, every toy, every fence.
“You know,” Nick observed from where he sat with Oreo watching football with a beer in his hand, “You reach this point with every litter.”
He’s right.
I know I post all the fun and cuteness and make it look like puppies are the best thing ever, but here’s the God’s-honest truth: Continue reading “It’s Worth All the Poop (really)”
Over the weekend, Nick posted a Beware of Dog sign on our driveway.
He did it in response to the fact that two of our neighbors were burglarized, but he also did it because legally it’s a good idea. You should be aware of my dogs.
It’s a sign we should have posted long ago since Lucy bit the UPS guy and Gracie tried to bite the Fed Ex man (and bit me instead when I stepped between them). And now Frankie Continue reading “Beware of Dog/s?”
I’ve been kicking around ideas for this post—lots to say, not enough space (the usual for me).
My thoughts are scattered because part of me is in North Carolina worrying about the dogs at the three shelters we visited who were all evacuated. I know they’re confused and frightened, but so far, at least, I know they are safe.
In a news story about the Anson shelter, I saw footage of several of the dogs I met – Oreo (who is coming to my home at the end of the month), the Great Dane that Lisa and I flirted with (whose destiny is uncertain), Sparky (the shy, adorable pit mix with bandit eyes that Lisa coaxed out to say hello to us), and a large gray pitbull whose sad face I’ve been carrying around with me ever since I met him. Of all the dogs we met, his eyes seemed to sear my soul – the depth of sadness and the resignation broke my heart.
Seeing those friends crammed in crates and stacked in a van, while the people around them talked in panicked voices and the flood water closed in on them was unbearable. I want to be down there, doing something, and yet again, Continue reading “Am I Becoming a Broken Record?”
I have so much to say.
My head is spinning with all I want to tell you—the extra three dogs in my house, their stories, the impending puppies, Frankie’s new classes, news of the book’s travels.
I’ll get to all of it, but if you want quick pictures and updates, you can always jump over and join the Another Good Dog facebook group where I try to post daily doses of my foster world. You can also sometimes catch updates on previous foster dogs there, which is always a treat (hint, hint to you adopters!).
But first, I need to tell you about my other shelter visits.
On Friday, Continue reading “I’m Not Gonna Shut Up Anytime Soon”
The range of emotions on this trip swings wildly from devastation and hopelessness to joy and gratefulness. Almost every night we’ve stayed with old friends who I rarely see, but are dear to my heart. It has been wonderful to catch up with them and they’ve also proved a delightful distraction from the reality of rescue in the rural south. There hasn’t been time in the evening to dwell on what we’ve seen during the day; there also hasn’t been time to write.
I mentioned this to Lisa and she said, “But it would be really hard to go back to a dark hotel room after what we’ve seen.” And she’s right. We’ve been blessed with wonderful hosts and hostesses all week long who’ve shared their food and homes and hearts.
I’m writing this post from my second hotel night. Lisa has flown home to PA and Nick has arrived to help. He’s taken over the driving and I’m trying to ‘be Lisa’ which is a much bigger job than I realized. She has been a wonderkund at social media – tweeting and posting and tagging.
She has been the one getting the word out, which I’ve discovered is probably the most critical part of this trip. People need to know. If they don’t, they can’t help. They need to know what the shelters need, how they can help the dogs, and the truth of what we all wish was not true. So, Nick has been doing the driving and I have been doing my best to gather the pictures and put them out for you to see.
I’m way behind on recapping out shelter visits, but really want you to get a picture of what is happening. On Wednesday Continue reading “Anger Won’t Bring Change; People Will”
Assuming anything about your dog is probably a mistake.
(Same goes for most people.)
When Gomer arrived, he was a manic, frenzied force, racing around my kitchen on his noisy toenails, tongue hanging out, pausing only to leap on any persons who happened by.
We took him for a walk with Frankie and he lunged at him over and over, snarling and yipping and frothing at the mouth. And when he was on his own, he attacked the leash itself.
I tried to contain him in the kitchen, and he leaped over the gate to follow me.
I thought, Continue reading “Testing My Assumptions About My Canine Good Citizens”
My husband Nick and I are a pretty good team. I’m the ‘idea’ person and he does all the work.
This weekend, though, Frankie and I were his helpers on a project that has been on my wishlist ever since we began fostering.
I’ve been angling for a ‘dog fence’ for quite some time. Our little hillside farm has six acres, plenty of room for a dog to run, but those acres are surrounded by farmer’s field, woods, one testy neighbor, and a road. It’s rare the foster dog (like Hops) that I can allow off-leash.
I worry too much about losing a dog in the woods, the endless cornstalks, the gun-owning neighbor’s property, or chasing the goats across the road. (The goats live in an invisible fence which makes them readily accessible to the dogs. I’m pretty certain it’s only a matter of time before the wolf or coyotes that have been spotted in our area nab them.)
Ever since Frankie discovered the vultures on the top fence line, Continue reading “Puppy Play Yard”
Frankie has another new puppy – only this puppy is ten pounds bigger and at least ten times more trouble than little Zander.
Hops is a gangly, sweet, goofy boy who somehow already seems bigger than when he got here on Saturday. He’s forty pounds, but his feet are so big he looks like he’s wearing galoshes, so I’d say that even though he’s six months old, he’s far from finished growing.
He routinely runs into things and can’t get his long legs out of his own way. He’s labeled a lab mix, but looks like he was put together with spare parts from a handful of breeds possibly including shepherd.
He’s in that awkward adolescence phase, tripping over himself, with a loose discombobulated swagger that makes me smile and think of teenagers trying (and failing) to look cool.
Nothing on the counters is safe. Yesterday he polished off the cream cheese, sampled the newspaper, and [insert frustrated shriek and several curse words] broke Continue reading “The Difference Ten Pounds (and Two Months) Make”
Frankie got a puppy!
At least that’s how he sees it.
His interactions with our new foster puppy completely personify the Abominable Snowman’s interactions with Daffy Duck-
“I will hug him and squeeze him and name him George!”
He is delighted to have a new playmate/toy and finds Zander simply irresistible. He paws at him and grabs him by the hind leg to drag around, but then flops on this back and lets Zander jump all over him. They race around the kitchen with Continue reading “A Puppy for Frankie (and NO more puppies for Willow)”
Our house is very quiet sans Gala.
Not that she was necessarily a noisy dog. Without her, though, the energy level has dropped.
Or maybe it’s the unrelenting gray, rainy weather.
Or maybe it’s because Frankie is out of sorts ever since his neuter and dew claw removal on Tuesday.
Or maybe it’s just me, missing Gala.
There is no need to Continue reading “A New Normal in this Foster Home”
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