WIP

Work in Progress.  Yup, that defines us. 

This week has been a work in progress.  Pressed by deadlines, pushing to meet goals, feeling the pressure.  Add to that company on the horizon, rearranging two rooms of the house, and trying to finish the bathroom remodel.  You guessed it, we must be nuts.  Luckily we're still young enough to bite off more than we can chew.  Or, thankfully we're too stupid to realize we've bitten off more than we can chew.  Surprisingly we haven't done bodily harm to ourselves (or each other)  in any way shape or form this week.

In the midst of this, Miss Sophie must surely be wndering if the sky is falling.  There has been hammering, pounding, cursing (you may have heard it), moving and no doubt the ground has shaken too.   My desk, aka her upstairs safe spot has been moved to another room.  Tomorrow strangers (to her) will invade the house.
Frankly, there probably hasn't been enough chaos this week to challenge her, so this weekend will be good experience. 

My approach always aims for "it's all good".  Even when things don't go as planned.  Which is pretty much every day of life.  Focus on possibilities, practice patience, be open to shifting to "plan b".  

I love my work in progress.  Sometimes it takes a lifetime to embrace that.  Sometimes we do that with each breath and every "plan b".    

Company Is Coming

Dear Sophie: 

I'm giving you fair warning.  The house is going to get crazy this week.  Think of it as many opportunities for socialization and embracing change. 

For starters, we're moving the office furniture into the spare bedroom, and the spare bedroom furniture into the office.  So what was your safe place is going to be moving into a room you have thus far only barked at.  The good news is the toilet is no longer in the hallway as the bathroom remodel is wrapping up.  Well, the door's not on, the cabinets aren't on, the towel bar is not up.  But I'm optimistic that since the stool is out of the hallway we're moving in the right direction.

Four strangers will take up residence for a few days.  They are of the two legged variety for a change.  Sophie, two are girls and two are guys. Of late your tail has been out and wagging often.  You will find it tiresome to hold it tucked up to your nose all the time like you used to.  Just warning you.

Hank and Mick will act like nutcases, okay, so not much different than usual.  They know company can be fun, especially if they don't know the house rules about table scraps.  We may end up sleeping in the front room with the dogs.  I'd like to suggest there will be snoring involved, but I'm not naming names. 

All the regular routines will be thrown out the window, but be not afraid.  It's all good.  It won't last forever and you will survive.  You might just find you like these people we call company. 

And Sophie, one more thing, if the boys are acting like heathens (and they will)  it's okay to put your dainty little pointer nose up in the air and show them what a little dignity looks like. 

Love, Mom

State Ties

We've had a lot of fosters over the years, but Sophie is our first NE foster.  But, honestly I have to worry about her.  I think she is a Sooner at heart.  She keeps trying to drag the OU door rug to the sofa to lay on, or to her crate.  Luckily she never would make it as a thief because she makes such a ruckus while doing it.  Of course the flip side might be she's such a Husker fan she's trying to destroy the OU evidence.  If so, can I really correct her for this??

It got me thinking about all the states our fosters have come from and the people who got them here.  We've had dogs come from MO, KS, IA, OK and of couse, now NE.  Some came via transport.  Which is a group of volunteers who each drive about 1 hour of the journey, then hand off the dog to the next driver.  It's like a canine relay race.  Sometimes you get lucky and find trucker going that way who drives the pup the whole distance.  Other times, like with Sidney, we had a volunteer pilot fly him from OK to NE.  He would not have tolerated the stress of a road transport, so this was such a blessing.  Several times, we've split the distance and driven half way to meet the dog at some roadside gas station or fast food place.  If you ever see a couple cars parked on the fringes of a parking lot with people handing off a dog from one car to the next you've witnessed a transport hand off in progress.  One time we drove a transport with five dogs on it.  Each going down the road to a second chance. 

One any give day there are transports crisscrossing the country.  It's like an underground railroad of animal rescue.  Except we're not really underground, just incognito.  Behind the scenes are the transport coordinator, the volunteers, the shelter workers, the foster homes.  Hundreds of emails fly trying to line up a transport, hundreds of miles are covered, countless hearts are touched to save just one more.

It's what we do.  It's rescue, and it's part of who we are.

Socialization

One of my friends, whom I shall refer to as the Queen of Crazy Dog Lady's came to visit me today at the store.  She is one of those gals who takes in the dredges of dogs and loves them to pieces.  She takes the homeless, the hopeless and dotes on them.  She also breeds Chinese Crested dogs.  In her spare time, of course, besides working two jobs. 

I've written about her before.  She has Chinese Crested' named Lucille Bald, and Jimmy Chew Shoes.  Today she had a 7 week old pup with her named One Eyed Jack.  You guessed it, Jack has an eye issue that may cost him his eye.  He came for his first official outing into the big world of dog lovers. 

The mission, should I choose to accept it - love up on One Eyed Jack.  Hold him, handle him, let him get used to new people.  Naturally, I checked his teeth, ears, and handled his feet.  Rubbed him, nuzzled him and let others do the same.  It was good for him and a treat for me.

Socialization is so important.  For dogs, and for people too.  We need to know goodness and kindness abounds.  We need to have our feet touched and teeth looked at.  We don't have to like it, but we need to allow it.  Let me tell you it's a rough job, but someone has to do it.

Luckily I work in a place where dogs are doted on.  Somehow the crazy dog lady's of the world find each other and life is good.  Truthfully, this gal would have given me one of her pups.  All she wants is for them to go to a good home.  Just not sure how I'd explain a small nearly nekkid puppy to the resident pointers.  Or to Reno for that matter......

400 and Going Strong

This will be my 401st blog on this site.  Wow, some people just never shut up do they?  Present company included for sure.  For a fairly quiet person I seem to have a lot to say.  Although, some people who know me well will insist that there is nothing quiet about me.  Really, I'm quite shy.  Now, if I could just say that without giggling.  Well, I used to be shy.  Not so much anymore.

Sometimes I feel like I am repeating myself.  So I have to say - nah, just not possible.  You see each day finds me a different person.  Experiences do that for us.  They mould us, shape us, push us, prod us, squeeze us, pinch us, slam us, round us and revise us.  Lordy, I just hope they air brush us too!

If I didn't have dogs, I would have run out of words long ago.  So if I'm blathering on, blame the dogs.  Actually I'm speaking for them, and they really have a lot to say.  I've edited out the cuss words, you'd be surprised what potty mouths they have.  

They speak to my soul and I speak to you.  Everyone should have such divine, such canine inspiration.  I do.  With this motivation - how could I not share it with you?  Don't answer that.  I do, that's all that matters. 

Random Dog Thots

I remember a time, probably when I was in my twenties, that I used to snicker because my neighbor would walk to the curb in her bathrobe to get her newspaper.  I think of Mrs. W. when I take Sophie out late at night, or first thing in the morning wearing, you guessed it, my bathrobe. Red fuzzy robe, hot pink croc's, hair askew....no doubt a sight to behold.  Usually I only go out like that if it's dark.  Sometimes in the morning it's semi-dark.   I figure because I'm sleepy that everyone else is sleeping too.  Lordy, I hope so. 

You know how dogs love to roll in stinky, smelly gifts from other animals?  Mick found some decaying delight in the yard today and rubbed in it.  I could tell because it was on his shoulder.  Well, Sophie have liked his pheromones so she was rubbing on Mick.  I'm sure she was saying "oh baby, what's that smell!"

She finally got Mick into a rousing game of tag tonight.  They raced up and down the stairs, growling and barking like mortal enemies.  I rather love the thunder of their paws on the stairs.

I had one of those hard phone calls the other night.  Being the only volunteer for Pointer Rescue in this state people often call when looking to rehome their dogs.  Most are fairly straight forward conversations.  This was not one of them.  It was the case of an owner with a dog with aggression issues.   An owner who had done all the right things to socialize her dog, to retrain her dog, to deal with the dog's issues.  She'd worked with animal behaviorists, and her vet to find underlying issues and workable solutions.  Still, she was facing the sorrow of rehoming a difficult to place dog, or euthanizing it for the safely of her kids.  It was not a win-win situation.  It was heartbreaking.  I could only hope I had the words to help this woman with her decisions.  I was a last ditch effort to find an impossible solution.  This too is part of rescue, a part that tears us apart. 

As I love up on Mick, Hank and Sophie I think about this woman.  I know the choices she faces from past experience.  So I listened for a long time as she poured out her sorrow and fear.  And I pray, I gave her some strength to make the right choices. 

Turn The Tables

First off, let me say to any attorney's who may read this blog - no offense meant on my next comments.  But, you guys speak another whole language.  Well, Doctors do too.  Anyway, years ago I meet with my attorney while going through my divorce.  We were going through the who, the what, then when, where and how of everything.  All the legalese was mumbo jumbo in my head and I left feeling horrible.  I distinctly remember getting to my car and realizing that I now had proof that I was dumber than dirt.  It was a heart wrenching experience.  To this day, meeting with attorney's makes my head spin.

I've decided how to fix that.  I don't have to know that stuff, that is their job.  I would like to turn the tables though.  I'd like to sit these same folks down and talk dogs and flowers to them.  I could talk it up one side and down the other.  I know, it sounds grueling.  Someone please give me fair time with things I know well, and love dearly.  Perhaps it will seem like another language to them much like it did to me. 

Funny how we expect so much of ourself and how it hurts when we don't know everything.  At least I am that way.  While I couldn't talk breeding and show dogs, I can talk fostering, rescue and loving 'em.  While I am not a botanist, I am a designer and gardener.  For the most part I can make it or grow it.  I'm way right-brain in ways that will make the left brainers hands sweat and head ache. 

So I'm giving myself permission to not understand all the legal stuff thrown at me.  Phfewwwww, what a relief.  When you turn the tables we all get time to shine.

Sifting and Sorting

The process continues, at Mom's house, in life, with our dogs.  Sifting and sorting, finding, keeping, storing, releasing, opening up and letting go.

Warning, this process involves trash!  Of course, what is one man's trash is another man's treasure.  We see this in animal rescue all the time.  I see this just by looking at the three pups snoozing at my feet.  Definitely my life has been blessed with someone else's trash!  Sure makes you wonder doesn't it??

We found the coolest old wooden tool box in the basement yesterday at my Mom's.  Maybe my Dad made it, maybe his Dad made it, who knows.  Granted, no one else found it cool, or even useful.  We did.  Truthfully, I had trouble finding excitement in going through old tools at first.  Each of my brother's found a few pieces to take home.  But I doubt they were as excited with the old tools as Reno was.  Perhaps it takes a special old tool to recognize cool old tools.  And, I say that in the nicest possible way!!  He was excited with the treasures so I was too.  I do wonder if they are simply moving from one work area to another and still won't be used.  But, for a brief moment they were handled and appreciated. 

Perhaps that is all that matters.  Recognition, use, appreciation.  Sorted, sifted, saved.  What may have been trashed, instead will be treasured.  Amazing things happen when we take time to treasure.

Spring!!!!

How to explain how happy we are to see the sun, to not be walking in snow or mud?  To see the daffodils peek up in the garden, the grass greening up, to feel 50+ temps again.  I say all this knowing rain and snow is in the forecast tomorrow.  Today, though, I'm in the sunshine moment.  Bring on the natural vitamin D!!  Oh ya!

I took advantage of this weather to work on the spring yard clean up.  And it brings me to one important question.  Who's been pooping in my yard??  I am 100% certain it ain't a pointer.  None of the resident poopers leave tiny piles like this.  The resident piles I can identify.  These little ones - definitely not from our dogs.  Hmmm.....

In the warmth of the sun all three dogs got brushed today.  Hank about bowls me over for the spa treatment.  Hank about bowls Mick over as well to get a second brushing come to think of it.  Sophie is learning the brush is a good thing.  Getting brushed in the warm sun, even better. 

Sophie is also learning about being on the zip line.  If only I could capture the look on her face when she's on it and can't go any further.  Head up pulling on the lead, tail tucked, eyes big with a "HowCouldYou-WhatDoIDoNow-GetMeOffThis-IWannaGoInside-WhyMoreTorture" look.  Poor chicken little, so many things to learn.

All of this comes with patience.  The grass will grow, the flowers open, and Sophie will blossom.  And our hearts will be lighter because it's Spring time. 

Little Bit

Reno affectionately calls Ms. Sophie by the name of "Little Bit".  It describes her so well.  First of all, she is a little bit of a pointer.  She's a little bit timid.  She's a little bit silly.  She's a little bit psycho (but somedays aren't we all?)

He maintains she's a little bit anal.  I think he means that as a compliment.  He points out she is a little bit difficult.  Well, duh, she is female.  Goes without saying I'm thinking.  He told her no one would ever adopt her!!!  Now that was way harsh!!  And totally not true.  That comment was a little bit unnecessary. 

She's come a long way.  Far enough to be troublesome and challenging.  Far enough to show us just what life skills she needs to learn.  I think it's a good sign that she's comfortable enough here to be naughty. 
So we need to work with her a little bit on commands such as leave it, come, no bark - good quiet, go lay down.  Not to mention sit, stay and heel.  All in due time. 

She is more than a little bit adorable.  And gets more adorable day-by-day.  Of course, if you ask Mick, Hanky or Reno - they'd tell you otherwise.  Don't listen to them.  What do boys know?

Cleaning House

Cleaning out my Mom's house has been an on-going project.  Coupled by the fact that I'm a keeper, not a tosser.  It's hard to throw things away.  I can't do it to animals, to family treasures, to memorable items.

Nearly all my dogs were "throw aways", and look what absolute treasures they have been!  Every time I go to Mom's there are just a few more things I need to bring home.  Silly things, useful things, old things, kitchen things, collectible things -  you name it, she had it, and the box it came in.

For probably 40 years she had a statue of robins on the ledge of her dining room window.  Turns out it was a gift from my brother.  Those robins must have tried to take flight a few times as there are numerous places they've been repaired.  My brother doesn't want them.   I don't need them, have no place for them, but danged if I can pitch them.  I may have to delegate that task for a day when I'm not there.

Funny how we cling to that which invokes memories.  Bit by bit we're cleaning house.  Bit by bit we are walking down memory lane.  And yes, a little bit of those things are finding their way home with me.  I think that's just fine and exactly how she would want it.

Anger & Thanksgiving

I had a conversation recently with a cat owner.  She owned that the cat was unwell, and it was quite a dilemma on what to do.  The angst hit many levels.  First the love she had for her cat.  Second, the anxiety of living with a controlling husband.  Third the decision she needed to make regarding treatment of the illness.  Actually, the reverse of that.

Medical treatment was not an option because of the husband, because of the money.  Excuse me?  I have a tough time swallowing that one.  She suggested surrendering the cat, I suggested due to the age of the cat to euthanize it.  She wanted to give it a chance to find another home and possible treatment. 

Helloooo - the thought of throttling this person was my immediate impulse.  What about commitment, what about caring for the animal you chose to adopt, what about a little backbone of your own?  Why would you dump your cat on the wild hope that someone else would care enough to see them through their illness???  It sucks to have a sick animal.  It is heart breaking to see them over the bridge when letting go is the kindest choice for them.  But it is part of owning a pet.  Hard choices, heart wrenching choices, loving them until the end whatever that brings.

As angry as I am at this person's quasi-logic I also find some gratitude.  A person much like this one dumped Mr. Hanky and perhaps hoped he'd find a home to love and care for him.  A person like this didn't care enough to love him on the good days and the bad days.  A person like this gave up something wonderful. 

So as angry as I am, I find some softening in my heart when I think of Mr. Hanky.  There are people who love enough to do this for animals in need.  I only pray this cat finds one of them.

So So Sophie

I'm beginning to think that in another life that Sophie was a yappy miniature lap dog with neat freak tendencies.  No doubt she dreamed of being a pointer, and her wish came true.  Anything not in it's proper place gets a good barking at.  Once the bathroom tile project is finished I think she'll relax some. 

Case in point, the shop vac in the hallway is a source of great consternation.  Such a barkable object.  Hoses, attachments, a big canister, and a long power cord.  She has nosed it, bumped it, pawed at it, sniffed it, and pounced at it.  Other people have wubba's, we have shop vac's.  It does provide infinite opportunities to work on the "leave it"  and the "quiet" command.

Sophie has decided Mickey is a worthy playmate.  As I'm trying to write, they are playing that mouthy pointer game, with few wrestling moves thrown in for good measure.  Only problem being they are doing this under my desk managing to pull both the keyboard and the mouse off the tray!!!  I am certain I could blog in about ten minutes flat if there weren't little issues like this to interrupt me.

As I was saying, when the keyboard went flying,  Sophie loves to play with Mick.  Mick, a typical man, only plays to get Sophie to stop bugging him to play.  Mickey obviously was a boy friend or husband in another life.  Mr. Hanky is not a player, which is a good thing in men, but not so much with a silly girl like Sophie around. Once in a while she can engage Hank,  but Mick must be an easier target. 

Still I can't complain too much.  Seeing Sophie play is worth it.  Seeing her tail wag as she plays even better.  Seeing her just be a dog, although with wife-like tendencies, is a hoot.   She is so so Sophie, and pretty darned adorable at that.

 

Flat Mick Flat

They say pet therapy visits are for the patients, but they definitely bring joy to the staff too.  Actually it's a win-win for anyone who crosses paths with the dogs. 

The social work team on the 7th floor has a special place in their hearts for the therapy dogs.  And they have a special place under the desk with treats for these special dogs.  They love Mickey.  He's such a good boy. 

Any self respecting dog owner will cringe when they hear blanket praise like that for their dog.  Most of us know they are not little angels all the time.  Micky had these ladies fooled until yesterday.  Now Mick doesn't have much of a repetoire of tricks.  Being cute takes him a long way, thank goodness.  So after having to sit for a treat and shake for a treat they tried to get him to lay down for a treat. 

Down has always been a hard command for Mick.  Actually, we use the command "flat" for Mick.  At home Mick has to go "flat" and wait for the release word before eating.  Sometimes when you ask him to go flat you would think you were asking him to lay on a bed of nails.  Other times, if you have a really tasty treat, he will literally throw himself into the flat position.  Yesterday he wasn't going to go flat for love nor money. 

I knew he could do it, they believed that I knew he could do it.  Trouble is Mick has them trained and knew he could probably get away with not doing it.  After much cajolling, Mick did go flat.  Of course, he looked like a heathen with no prior training, so they are on to him now. 

Just like that he went from Mick the angel, to Mick the bad boy.  Personally I think he was working them just to get more treats.  And, truth be told, they were working harder to get him to go flat, than he was to do it.  Hehehe.....he's got quite a system going.

We flat out know he's not really a bad boy.  No doubt he'll always get a few more treats just because flat is so hard for him. Way to work it Mick. 

Stop and Smell the Roses

Most of us are familiar with the phrase.....take time to stop and smell the roses.....  Lately, I've been altering that phrase.  I'm taking time to stop and kiss Mr. Hanky.  Truth be told, this is a good reminder for all of us to pause and appreciate, to lavish our love on those important to us.

Mr. Hanky has been with us not quite a year.  Of late, there are noticeable changes in the leg his tumor is in.  This of course brings out the many sides of me....the worrier, the nurturer, the optimist, and sometimes even the pessimist.  All those "in the head" conversations.  How much time is left? Have we used up all the good days? How do we keep him comfortable?  How will we know when it's best to let him go? Knowing how stoic they are, is he hurting and we don't know it?

The logical side of me knows I can handle this.  Knows it won't be easy, but can be done.  The other side of me isn't so sure. 

Until then I plan to stop and love up on the Hankster every chance I get.  I'll accept this lesson to slow down a bit.  To love up more.  To laugh at his silly pointer antics.  To tolerate the times he tramples me on the bed, and to disburse treats more generously.

Who knew the roses in life would come with cold noses and fur?  At one time I may not have, but I do now. 

Sturdy Chairs

I've been pondering the concept of sentimentalism.  Now, I'm pondering if there is such a word as sentimentalism.  You know what I mean. 

This is how it's come into play.  My siblings and I are sorting through Mom's house.  Picking and choosing what we want and don't want.  I find I am very sentimental, and a wee bit of a pack rat.  List that in the category of understatements of the century. 

Now, cleaning out a whole house has taught me to pitch things unmercifully.  But when I get down to old china, bits of lace, vases, vintage jewelry and sturdy old chairs I'm a gonner.  People keep saying the younger generation does not collect things like we do.  I have to object to being lumped with the older generation.  But, in reality, I guess I belong with that group. I know when I was the younger generation I could not find the value in these older items.  Now that I'm older I do.  Perhaps because I recognize that compared to the old things, I'm still a young thing.  See?  It can get complicated.

Thankfully Reno doesn't freak when I line up truck loads of sentimental items to bring home.  Thankfully, the dogs love me regardless of what I do.  Thankfully, I feel ties to this history.....and I indulge them. 

Six O'Clock Sophie

Never fails.  Miss Sophie wants to start her day between 6am and 6:30.  And believe me there is a conspiracy going on.

I'll start to hear her whining in her crate.  Then Hank The Tank will charge up the stairs and launch himself on to the bed,.  Thank God we don't have a water bed!  Hank's dive in would tsumani us right out of the bed.  If that doesn't succeed at getting me moving, then Mickey does his part.  His is a more subtle approach.  I'll hear him come into the room.  Yes, I can hear and sleep at the same time.  He approaches my side of the bed and sits there.  And sits there.  And sit's there.  If the stare down tactic fails for some reason, he will eventually put one paw on the side of the bed.  He is a proper English gentleman if nothing else!  Who could sleep though this I ask you???  Well, I could tell you, but names are being withheld to protect the innocent.  Although I'm not sure why.

So on sleepy feet I'll get up and venture outside with the pups.  I'm not complaining, but it is "mud season" here in the Midwest.  Where once I was navigating (read skating) over ice and snow to take Sophie out, now I'm picking where I place my feet for the least muddy path to the potty zone. 

After potty time and kibble time it's play time. When she is ready to play Ms. Sophie has more moves than Michael Jackson.  This morning she was bound and determined to get Mick to play.  As men will tell you, if a woman wants something, you don't stand a chance.  Neither did Mr. Mick.  So play they did.......finally.  Where is that camcorder when I need it?

Which brings me to about two hours since the conspiracy to get me out of bed was initiated.  They are sleeping.....full tummys, relieved from potty visits, and tired from play.  Maybe I should go back to bed too.

Closed Doors

Sophie taught me a new lesson.  They say that for every door that closes, another opens.  In her case, two closed doors equal an open door.

She has two safe places in the house, her crate, and under my desk.  If I'm downstairs, she's downstairs.  If I'm upstairs she's upstairs.  This evening I closed the door to her crate, and Reno closed the door to the office.  Then we turned on a movie.

Low and behold Sophie came over to the sofa where I was sitting.  First she stood next to me on the couch, then she sat next to me.  Then she turned a couple circles and laid down.  Ahhhhh, time on the sofa, next to the Momma - life is good. 

Two closed doors is not necessarily a bad thing.  In this case it is a wonderful new beginning. 

May I Get You A Drink?

Why yes, please, that would be delightful.

Most of us, most all the time, have only to walk to the kitchen, or the breakroom to get a beverage of our choice.  Ohhhh.....I love beverages of choice.  I'm fairly selective.  Coffee in the morning, no more tha two cups.  Water with lemon, any time of the day.  Sweet tea during the summer, hot tea when I have a sore throat.  Beer with pizza, margarita's with Mexican, Mojito's when it's summer, or wine, gin & tonics, hot chocolate.  You know how that goes.  I am exceedingly (and deliciously) well hydrated. 

Now Ms. Sophie, chicken little that she is, has been slow to make use of the community water bowl.  At first she wouldn't drink anything, then she'd lap at the snow outside, then she'd drink water in her crate.  Today, in an act of braveness, she ventured into the kitchen for a drink from the dog bowl.  Actually, her front legs were in the kitchen, her back were in the living room so she stretched as far as her little legs would take her.

It was impressive to know she was confident enough to do this.  Such a good girl.  I believe I shall toast her braveness.  Cheers little Sophie.

Record Time

It's possible Sophie may be adopted soon.  No really, it's very possible.  If so, that will be the shortest time ever a foster dog has stayed with us. 

Other foster homes, in other locations, move them in and out faster that we do here in the Midwest.  Pointer Rescue has the majority of it's placements on the East coast.  But, there are pointer lovers all around the country.  I have to laugh at the possibility that one of my fosters was adopted to the Big Apple and another may land on the left coast. I also have one in Mississippi, and one in New Mexico.   My little Nebraska dogs get to see a lot of the world.

One always hates to see them go, and one always loves to see them go.  It's definitely a mixed blessing.  It never occurred to me that someday in life we'd be a "half-way" house for dogs lucky enough to get a second chance.  For every dog who makes it into a foster home there were probably a dozen people in the background fighting on their behalf.  They are the shelter workers, the rescue volunteers, the good Samaratan's that never hesitate to pick up a wandering dog on the side of the road, or a stray in their neighborhood. 

It does take a village to raise a child.  The village I belong to helps the pointers of the world.  Sophie is a cherished member of our village.  Albeit a very silly member.  She still has a fascination with barking at the door.  Sometimes she'll bark, then bite at it, then tuck and run when the door moves.  It's pretty amusing to watch the process. 

Truth be told fosters enter our hearts in seconds flat.  While they may move on to another home, they never move out of our hearts.  That's what we do in rescue.