Wednesday, September 21, 2016

Failure and Success at Fostering

We began fostering wayward Schipperkes last year, and our first one was Junior.  We adopted him in short order.  He's a ten year old, over-large Schip who reminds us of our first dog, Merky.  Adopting  your foster dog is considered a failure, but Junior is a joy and we wouldn't have it any other way.

Our next assignment was the two little girls Missy and Barbie.  They are somewhere less than ten years old, and their owner had gone into a nursing home.  A relative visited their home once a day until they were surrendered, so we spent a great deal of time re-housebreaking the little girls.  They were a joy, but we aren't in this to collect Schips, and we adopted them out to a very good home.  Letting them go was difficult, but now they are living a dream life, and are on the road several days a week helping in a transport business.  So far this week they have been to St. Louis, Tulsa, and DesMoines.  Their new owner keeps us updated so the pain of separation is less.

We had another success this week, I guess.  We brought an old boy home with us from a kennel, and we could see that he was in bad shape.  We didn't know just how bad.  He had three good nights in a soft bed with the other dogs around him, and he had pleasant walks outside in grass.  Yesterday and this morning he couldn't keep food down, and today our vet did his blood work and found that his kidneys were gone.  He had a couple of good days with us and passed in loving arms.  It doesn't feel like success, but at least he didn't die alone on a cold hard kennel floor.


Merle Morrison said...

Sometimes not dying alone is the best you can hope for. :(


David aka True Blue Sam said...

He would have died painfully and alone in the kennel had we not brought him home. We should all be so blessed. The funny thing is, on Monday and Tuesday mornings I got up, walked the other dogs and came back for him. Wednesday morning he got up with everybody else and went along on the first walk. He wanted to be part of the pack.

Merle Morrison said...

It's good that his last days were comfortable - and not spent alone.