Stepping out then in by fostering

“Do you remember when you said you might be willing to take on a foster dog?” she asked. The voice on the other end of the line was my friend Laurel from Animal Control. Her call had caught me off guard on this dismal November afternoon; I was solidly in the throws of a bonafide pity party, and getting comfortable in my own misery. Just moments earlier my beloved doves had left for their new home 100 miles away. Their departure was medically necessary as I had grown dangerously allergic to them, and I was still struggling to my passion in life after farming. But none-the-less I was quite blue about my whole situation. “Yeessss, I remember,” I cautiously replied, as I scavenged my memory for recollection of a cheerier day when I might have said such a thing. Over the course of the next few minutes I learned that multiple dogs had been abandoned in a home, and had just been rescued from their dismal situation. One of the dogs was a small terrier cross female named “Wa-wa” and her five tiny puppies, guessed to be just over 2 weeks old. The influx of these new rescues pushed the capacity for our small local shelter, and finding a foster home for Wa-wa and her puppies was a priority; I could hear the urgency in Laurel’s voice. “Give me a few minutes to run this by Joe, and I’ll get back with you,” I said as I hung up the phone. Immediately I dialed Joe’s office number only to learn that he was with a client. Though I didn’t know or acknowledge my motivation, my interest in this project was mounting. Instead of leaving a message, I hung up and called Laurel right back. “Yep, I can take them,” I said. After 30 years of conditioning, and the multitude of critters I’ve brought home, I knew Joe wouldn’t care and might actually expect it. My heart was shifting and there was no turning back now as I took the first step out of my dark afternoon into a new story. Laurel arrived shortly thereafter with Polly and puppies. She was thin; and her expression was a haunting glaze of worry yet she submissively looked up and leaned in as I stroked under her chin. Polly laid her erect terrier ears back against her head, squinted her eyes up at me, as if to say, “Do with me what you will.” I’ve read about a coping mechanism in neglected and abused dogs where they just “shut down” and take whatever life brings them and Polly had taken on that demeanor. She showed no hint of resistance and anxiously watched as we moved the puppies from the crate to the makeshift bed in the laundry room.

The first order of business was a bath for poor little Polly. She reeked of urine — among other things. I gently picked her up and placed her in the sink where she stood immobile, almost frozen in time, while I scrubbed and rinsed her from tip to toe. She was a pitiful sight really; lathered and wet there was no hiding her gaunt profile of protruding ribs and the sharp peak of her backbone on which her skin hung. I toweled her off, rubbing her wiry coat vigorously. She seemed to rather like this physical contact. Her expression changed, her eyes softened, and her tail curled up over her back and started to wag. Why on earth would this tiny little dog trust a human so quickly after everything she’d been through? There at the confluence of her submission and gratitude a friendship of trust was conceived between Polly and me. Outwardly, her demeanor said thank you, and she enthusiastically gulped down the bowl of warm soft food before returning to her puppies. I had no idea the things I would learn from this tiny bundle over the course of the next six weeks. Next, I carefully inspected each puppy and found them so very tiny and thin, but in amazingly good shape given the situation. Their eyes were barely opened and the puppies weighed between 4 and 6 ounces. Four females and one male were the lineup for this litter of five. They anxiously suckled moving frantically from teat to teat searching for one with more milk. I was impressed by Polly’s mothering instincts for such a young dog. Though her milk was lean she’d worked hard at protecting and feeding her puppies in their short 2 weeks. There were two puppies that I considered fragile and “at risk,” so I decided to supplement the whole litter as a precaution. I mixed up a gruel of pureed softened puppy food, and filled a syringe. It was like a fish to water and the puppies frantically suckled and licked the gruel from my palm, shaking with enthusiasm. It was a messy endeavor and took some patience but eventually I got 6-8 cc in each of five puppies. Polly enthusiastically cleaned the gruel from each puppy’s face and paws as I finished and moved on to the next. This exercise was repeated every 4 hours for the next few days, at which time Polly's milk returned and the period of risk had passed. Each passing day I took another step into ownership of my new foster story. I was falling in love with this little family and was committed to making sure that they didn’t end up back in the animal shelter/rescue system. The way I saw it there were 2 parts to this equation. First, was getting good homes/adoptions and second was the love, socialization and coping skills I could provide them in the next 6 weeks before sending them on to their forever homes. Both of these things would set the puppies and Polly up for success. It was equally humbling as it was empowering to realize that I could set the course for this journey.

The adoption process worried me the most because of the puppies’ age in proximity to Christmas. They would be exactly 8 weeks and ready for placement Christmas week. The last thing I wanted for this litter was to become casual Christmas gifts only to be forgotten and discarded as quickly as the holidays passed, and ultimately returning to the system. I’d seen it all too many times. The truth of the matter was the puppies were NOT my responsibility to place and the ultimate burden fell on the shelter. But I also knew the sooner I could find 6 good homes and get adoption applications and fees on file at the shelter the sooner the puppies would be “off the market.” It only took a few texts and pictures shared amongst family and friends and within a week the shelter had adoption applications on file for all five puppies AND Polly. Placements ranged from New York City to Dallas to California, and with that detail off the list I could relax and focus on fostering Polly and her puppies.

I started a daily dialogue of updates, photos and videos with Polly and puppy adoptive parents. By putting different colored ribbons on the puppies the parents could see and identify their puppy and watch their progress. I shared potty training progress, playtime and even the Christmas day video around the table with our rendition of “pass the puppy.” It was such a great tool to connect us with each other, and I felt as though everyone knew their respective puppy and it’s personality before it came home to stay. This not only showed them how the puppies were stimulated and exposed to new things and their training, but more so how much they were loved. Ironically this dialogue continues today as I get regular puppy and a Polly updates and photos. We hit the lotto jackpot for amazing puppy and Polly parents and by intimately sharing my fostering experience with them I took another step away from my sadness and into my new story with the realization I had something to give.

Polly’s transformation was the most marked and moving for me to watch. Without a glitch she became one of our pack, always respectful of the other dogs and their space. While here, she learned how to play. Sounds a little crazy, but with so much energy expended for coping and survival in her prior life she missed out on playtime. She curiously watched the other dogs chase the ball and play with each other not really understanding their behavior. I’ll never forget her first animated bound as she stayed a safe distance from the other dogs but tried on some silliness for size. It fit and suited her well, and put a lump in my throat. We take simple the joys of life for granted and yet play was a pleasure she had not experienced. Polly mastered play and her posture changed as she morphed into a happy and playful dog. She was eager to learn sit and lie down, particularly if there was the added incentive of a treat and some cuddles and affection. Potty training was seamless for Polly; she was motivated to do only as we wished. It only took a few days for her to grasp the concept. Gratitude exuded every pore of Polly’s body and she never missed and opportunity to nuzzle in and a kiss (lick).

Which brings me to today…... The puppies and Polly have been gone now as long as I had them here. It was truly a bright light in an otherwise dark time for me. Someone asked me how I could foster them without keeping one, and the truth is I did my part for them then passed the baton to their forever parents. While I miss the little my little foster nuggets, I’ll look back on this experience knowing they gave me so much more. They reminded me that we all have something to give, and by giving unconditionally there’s a huge return on your investment.

Lessons learned are:

1.) Never say things you don’t mean because people will remember;

2.) Never miss an opportunity to change your story if it’s not the story you like.

A special thanks to Polly, Tazzy, Marlow, Ruthie, Waffles and Odin for giving me the courage to step out of my story and into a new one.