So, I ask : why not foster a senior pet? The shine of this old guy's
coat, the lift in his step and the hearty wag of his tail makes me know
that we did the right thing. Whether Mr. Boo shares next week, next
month or even a few years of quality time in his new home, we can enjoy
each day as it's given to us, all the richer for the Humane Society's
taking one more stray in and letting us have one more dog to love.
Kate, who is my lovely wife, wrote a letter to the editor last week about being an elderly cat or dog's foster person.
More below the fold.
To the editor:
During the last several years, under the direction of Ed --, the Humane Society has become more, well, humane.
I have a 15-year relationship with HSKC beginning with the adoption of a black Lab-mix puppy who arrived with her litter mates in a cardboard box carried by her dam's owner. I'll never forget his enticing comment that "these are some beautiful puppies."
Maggie picked us out as we sat
on the floor and watched her siblings wander around. Once a dog picks you out, it's pretty much a done deal. Maggie went to the big
kennel in the sky on May 17, 2005, one of the worst days of my life.
Our family still had a black Lab mix, Chloe, who we referred to as "our
last dog."
When Chloe went to join Maggie last January, that was it. No
more dogs for us. That was until I took the Maggie/Chloe freshly washed dog bed to the Humane Society as a donation.
To kill a few minutes, I wandered back to the dog dormitory. And there he was: Bruce the death row dog. Of course, he would have been allowed to live out his remaining days, weeks, months – who knows? – years, as a ward of the
county under Ed's and Christy's loving care.
This gimpy 10-year-old's
coat was dull, his walk wobbly and his bent tail barely wagging.
I was told he was not eligible for adoption because of health issues,
but I could foster him. No problem, no hesitation. After one phone call
to my better half, we agreed that bringing home one more dog was good for us and good for him. So
foster dog has become a couch potato.
That's the short story of our
first experience fostering a dog who is now known as Mr. Boo.
When not on the couch, he sleeps on the Maggie and Chloe bed.
What's so great about introducing a senior foster dog into our
routine vs. an adorable, freely peeing, chews everything, eager-to-please puppy? Mr. Boo walks nicely on his leash, is housebroken, sleeps in his crate and eats what we give him and enjoys belly rubs. He doesn't mind sharing the sofa with us while we watch TV, in fact, he insists on it.
He tolerates car rides and sings along to
the Betterton fire siren. This dog could be on Letterman. I swear he
says Ma-Ma and Me-too. He's brought new joy to our mornings as he does the back stroke on the sofa flailing his big old black Lab feet in the air and ignores the passing parade of calico cats who share our home
with him.
Given this setting and lots of love, he'll outlive his previous chances. X-rays show he was hit by a car and allowed to heal without medical intervention. Until a month ago he had a walnut-sized tumor on his bum leg. It came off clean as a whistle and soon the fine scar line will be covered with black fur. Thanks, Dr. Forney.
Boo’s heart murmur can't be fixed, but his arthritis is responding to medication.
So, I ask : why not foster a senior pet?
The shine of this old guy's
coat, the lift in his step and the hearty wag of his tail makes me know
that we did the right thing. Whether Mr. Boo shares next week, next
month or even a few years of quality time in his new home, we can enjoy
each day as it's given to us, all the richer for the Humane Society's
taking one more stray in and letting us have one more dog to love.
Kate --
Still Pond