Fostering Thots

This is the first time in our years of fostering that we have a permanent foster. Granted, some were here so long they felt like they might be permanent. Kobe became permanent. He was with us for a year before we adopted him.

Lily has been in her foster home for 15 years now. Nah, just kidding. But she's been there a long time, well over Kobe's year with us. We have such great hopes for our foster dogs. We love them like they are our own. We cheer for their successes. We cry when they go to their forever home. It is a complicated thing this fostering.

It's an agreement to love wholeheartedly. To do training and housebreaking, to learn their issues and help them learn to be loving companions. Well, they do the loving and we enjoy their companionship.

It's very much like parenting, except you can put your foster in a crate. It's as heartbreaking and as rewarding as parenting. It's loving them enough to let them in, knowing you will let them go when the time is right. It's definitely not knowing what you are getting into, each and every time you foster. No two are the same.

It's puddles, and holes in blankets, heartworm, and an occasional parasite. It's figuring out which treats are liver treats OMG liver treats. It is sit, stay, down, no, good dog and hello buddy. It is the wonder of how humans can treat animals so horribly and dispose of them so cruelly. It is the magic of love and discipline.

It is saying yes, dear foster, I love you enough to let you go. It is the joy of hearing how your former foster dog is doing. It is the delight of seeing new pictures of them. Sometimes, it the bitter sweet experience of being the last one to love that sweet dog you foster. It was that way for us with Sidney. Someday it will be that way with Hank.

As much as I dislike the saying "it is what it is", it definitely applies to fostering. Fostering is what it is. And yes, it is an honor, and a privilege.

Snug As A Bug

The pups are in for a rude awakening this weekend. It's going to be cold. I'm thinking we skipped Fall and are going right into Winter. I should be slapped for even suggesting that.

Pointers don't exactly have the coat of a Polar Bear. While they are soft and sleek, and shed (alot) they aren't built for winter weather. I can tell they are noticing the cooler weather approaching.

Kobe has his corner in the bedroom, with his stack of blankets. He gave me the look the other night that said: "hey, Mom, when you gonna turn my heater on?" I told him it's too early in the season for the furnace, but I may have to reconsider. We've gotten the winter blanket out, but not the flannel sheets.

I've gotten a scarf out, put some gloves on in the car, but haven't worn a coat yet. One must enter the next season in a series of measured steps. To make the drastic move from no coat, to coat, hat and gloves would be pathetic. What kind of Midwesterner would I be if I did that?

Sure, right now the 30's feel cold. But in January they will feel warm. Plus I know with the cold will come the pointers. One by one, they will slink onto the bed at night to give warmth, to get warmth, to be snug as a bug in a rug.

They go by leaps and bounds from cold into warmth. I go by little baby steps from warmth into cold. All done in the name of staying snug and warm.

Tranquility is Relative

I readily admit that the evil green monster of jealousy took root in my heart this morning. It was such a peaceful scene. Mick, Maddie and Hank, snuggled together with Reno in bed. Reno would want me to say the dogs were snuggling, he wasn't. I was jealous. Almost all my favorite two and four footed loves were warm, cozy and snoozing. I, however, was getting ready for work.

I took my envy into a hot shower. Where I intended to nurse it just a wee bit more. Now, truly, I have nothing to complain about. Sometimes we do anyway.

Several minutes into my shower I hear to sounds of Maddie warming up to the sound of a not so distant siren. In seconds she is enjoying a full accompaniment of Hank and Mick howling their hearts out beside her.

Suddenly, miraculously, heaven left the bed and stepped inside the warm shower behind closed doors. I didn't have it so bad after all. Tranquility is as fleeting as it is relative.

Ears and Sighs

I was snuggling with Hank this morning. He was warm and lazy, I was lazy and wanted to be warm. Plus he was on my side of the bed so I curled up him for a while.

Ever notice how expressive a dogs ears are? It's completely amazing. Beyond their hearing ability, just the ear wiggling capacity! They say dogs have 16 muscles in their ears. That's a lot of muscles in that one area of the body. As much as they get used you would think they would have really buff ears.

This got me thinking, which may not be a good thing on a day off and early in the morning. I wonder if their ears ever get tired? I know my eye's get tired if I stare at the computer too long. I know my feet hurt after being on them all day. In my best Andy Rooney voice I have to say I wonder if dogs ears get tired? I suppose if I ever have a talking dog named Andy Rooney I'll probably find out.

I was also enjoying how Hank snuggled closer and then let out a big sigh. Funny how people sigh more out of frustration, or radical acceptance than pure pleasure. I've never seen a dog sigh because the line was too long, or traffic was bad, or because people are so stupid sometimes. They sigh for the absolutely right reason. Because life just can't possibly get any better.

I believe I'll give that a try.

Oldies But Goodies

I've been taking my dogs to the local pet blessing for ten years now. First time I went was when my lab, Abby, was about 3 months old.

At first I was enamoured with the puppies when I would go. Face it, we all have a soft spot for puppies. Now I find it's not the puppies that touch my heart so much as it is the old dogs.

Perhaps sharing life with an old dog gives me special insight to them. Of course, Kobe probably doesn't know he's old. But as we help him down the stairs every time I know. I know when he stumbles, or struggles to get up, or when he lays down and it's one clumsy shift in position that in his race through life age is about to pull ahead.

So when I see old pets at blessing events, I smile in my heart. While everyone loves a puppy, it's a special person who adores their senior. I have to ask God to bless every hair on my old guys body. Bless his tail that wags, his zest for life (at least for his kibble!) his love for me. He does love his Mommy. Bless his heart and steps in the days ahead.

Oldies but goodies, need I say more?

Blessing or Curse - a dog perspective

Geez, I have to tell you what happened today. Oh, btw, it's Hank talking. Mom did it again. I don't know why she does it. She says something about a Blessing of the Animals. But, let me tell you I must be cursed because she keeps taking me to them.

First she puts that red rope thing over my schnozzle. She calls it a Gentle Leader. I try like the dickens to get that dreaded thingy off. She should have one of those strapped over her nose. Bet she wouldn't like it either. Then we go for a car ride. I like that part, except for the rope on my nose.

Then we get to the blessing place. Let me tell you its chaos there. Now, she knows I grumble when strange dogs come to close. Why it's good experience to be in situations like that beats the biscuits out of me. Today Mickey went with me. He was supposed to be a calming essence for me. Mom must be nuts. I love her to pieces, but she simply must have a whacko side.

Oh ya, there are dogs everywhere. Big ones, little ones, ugly ones, did you see the poodle with pink bows on her ears? Her Mom must hate her. Kids everywhere, music, cats in carriers. Mickey about shivered himself out of his coat at the cats. So much for creating a calm aura for me. Thanks Mickey. And, get this, they bring you treats. But, who can eat at a time like this??? Are you kidding me? I think Mom still has 'em in her pocket, I hope so.

Then as if it isn't stressful enough you have to just stand around and look cute, with a rope around your nose, for about 30 minutes. Oh my liver treats, it's nearly impossible. At least we stayed near the back. I think she called it the juvenile delinquent section. Must be a special area for the really handsome boys like us. We were in good company, there was another pup from the local shelter who preferred the special back area. There was a horse too, thank God they don't like to sniff butts.

There were some good moments. Those nice little boys just loved me. The one with his Russian turtle in a fleece pouch was adorable. But, why doesn't Mom carry me around in a cozy fleece pouch? I'm still not sure I got any blessings. A man in a long robe prayed for my health and comfort. If health and comfort don't come in the form a liver treat I doubt I got any.

It was exhausting, but we got through it. If Mom came away feeling blessed then wearing the red rope on my nose is all worth it. Now leave me alone. I'm one tired dog and it's nap time.

Seasons

We are changing seasons. In our lives, by our age, by the weather, by clothing, by knowledge, by experience. The outside temperature tells us change is upon us. Honestly, I'm not ready to let go of the vegetable garden. I need about another month 0f 80 degree weather for all the tomato's on the vine.

There are seasons of hope and anticipation. Seasons of preparation. Seasons bitter and harsh. Seasons of wonder. Seasons of healing. Seasons we just wonder where they disappeared to. And of course, lest I forget, there is football season.

Then, of course, there are the seasonings of life. On our food, in our relationships, in our faith life. Some seasonings are savory, some spicy, some mellow and some always leave us wanting more.

I look at Kobe and know his seasons may be few. In the busy-ness of my life, I envy the laziness of his life. I look at Hank and wonder about his cancer. He's been part of our family since April. What an incredible season of joy he has brought us. Who ever gave him up is missing out on so much. They may not have wanted to endure his season of cancer. Isn't that too bad for them? Maddie has had a season of healing since her ACL surgery last March. As the only other female in the house she and I have a special bond. Lastly, there is Mickey. His favorite season is hunting season and he doesn't even get out in the field. Tweety birds, bunny, squirrels, bee's, bugs and an occasional snake are his prey. One doesn't necessarily need a field to hunt. Bliss can be found in our own backyard.

Such is the case with Reno and I. We've crossed some bumpy roads of late, but buoyed with laughter and love we keep finding the bliss in our own backyard. And, yes, sometimes you have to step over a big pile of poo to find the bliss. Such is life.

Whatever season you are in, right now......find the grace, step over the poo, experience some joy, live the moment.