About a year and a half ago I decided to join up with the animal shelter to be a foster dog supporter. The shelter is often filled to capacity. We have a great group of volunteers who support the institution along with workers, but there is only so much space and manpower to accommodate a growing number of homeless pets. And with the sky rocketing cost of groceries and home needs people struggle to pay for anything extra.
After a couple of success stories, the older two grandsons and I headed back to the shelter to see if they had any other small dogs who were young and needed a place to stay for a bit. I did not want an older dog because unless they were raised around children it was difficult to get them acclimated to loud active kids.
And having loud active grandkids and an ancient rescue dog soon to reach 17 years old, Brutus, and a young female Chi Tzu, Chloe, it would not be fair to bring some older dog along to try to fit in. They asked me if I would consider taking a dog they had who had just been returned again from foster care because he was unable to warm up to the elderly couple who tried to house him. They told me he was good with children, and he was only six years old. Although he was a mixed breed, he looked mostly like a Jack Russell and carried a lot of those characteristics.
The first few weeks he hung out in the laundry room, peeking around and watching me with one eye. He would not let Clay come near him. When he would try to show his teeth out of fear and growl, his front lips opened up and he made a high-pitched sound. One day he seemed to decide I was ok and after that day he would not leave my side. This made things tough for my husband who occasionally wanted to be near me also. And in about another month Scrappy decided he was going to have to accept my husband as a part of our household.
His next venture was to agree to allow the grandkids around, but not to pet him. After a year, that remains the rule. And after having him as a foster dog for about ten months Clay and I realized there was not going to be a single person out there who was going to adopt this temperamental mutt. He had a weak bladder and arthritis in his back knees, and he was nowhere near six but actually much older. He had been brought to the shelter as a stray so they could only guess.
He had obviously never had the chance to be a puppy because he had no clue what to do with a toy which was fine with Chloe who had two baskets in our house full of them. He had no desire to walk on a leash or to be inside if I was outside or outside if I was inside. So, we bit the bullet and formally made him a Foreman. They reminded me a few times as I filled out the paperwork that he was now completely ours. The shelter folks seemed surprised after all these years he had finally found a forever home.
He has adopted one of my favorite blankets that he rolls up in on his dog bed in the breakfast room. He reminds me I am a creature of habit. When my walking shoes go on in the evening he runs and sits by the door. When they come off and I put on my pajamas he runs and lays next to my spot on the couch waiting for me to sit down to watch TV. He has carved his way into our lives to finish out his years. He must have had a rough start, but he now enjoys his doggie siblings, Mom and Dad, and the irritating kids who come and go.
I encourage anyone considering owning a pet to visit the local animal shelter first or to consider fostering. But just a heads up -- like us it may be a "foster fail."
