Finally Friday

It’s been a tough week in the dog world. Not my own dogs, they are fine.

In the rescue world, things have been a bit rough. It is difficult. It is worth it, but difficult. I try to focus on the worth it part, but some days are harder than others.

What else is up? It has been warm, and almost all the snow is gone. The backyard is a complete and total swamp. I don’t want Indy and Watson to run around back there, because that is a disaster.

Indy got her bloodwork results back. She is in really good shape for her age. Good enough that she was cleared for dental surgery. So, that is where she is today. I am nervous about it, not so much because I fear something will happen during surgery (although, of course I will be anxiously awaiting the call that says all is well). I am mostly nervous about starting some kind of chain reaction.

I give Watson things that are meant to be chews that last a while, and he quickly consumes them. Back to the chew shopping. Apparently, I have another power chewer. I’m not surprised in the overall scheme of things, but I am a bit surprised to have this issue at 12 weeks with the items I’ve been offering him.

This weeks puppy class was again good, but Watson got less play time in because the other pups there were so small, and he was a bit of a bull in a china shop. Still a great learning experience for him, but it burned less physical energy. Luckily, I have a play date scheduled for Saturday with some big dogs.

My mother is back for another visit, to help me with some things and mostly to help me with Watson while I get stuff checked off my To Do list. The timing for adopting a puppy was less than excellent, so part of how we came to the conclusion we could manage it anyway, came from her willingness to come back to help. Watson clearly recognized her when she walked it the door. It was so adorable. He likes people in general and is always excited to see new people, but he was just beside himself with sheer wiggly waggy puppy happiness to see the woman who bottle fed him so many meals. We didn’t know whether he would recognize her, but he did.

I might have created a twitter account for Watson. Great. I’m becoming one of THOSE people.

Happy Tails

Our Fosters from Ms Tori on Vimeo.

Eleven

Apparently I could only make it to number 11 before having a failed foster.

Welcome to the family, baby boy.

I think we’ll be calling him Watson.

Sitting and Thinking

So, yesterday I teased that I had other news that was too big to just tack on the bottom of that post.

It wasn’t really a sweeps week “to be continued” type of tease. I just have all this shit on my mind, but my mind hasn’t finished chewing on it yet. I know some of what it means, but I don’t know all of what it means.

So, here you get a little glimpse into my life, mid thought process.

I am typing this while sitting at the dining room table. At my feet, Indy is asleep. This is usual. She is asleep at my feet a large portion of the time that I am on my computer.

Far less usual, and quite unexpectedly, there is a puppy asleep at my feet too.

Webster.

Webster is back. For reasons which are totally understandable, and I agree with and support, but are not my reasons to tell. The family who had hoped to adopt Webster, has decided it isn’t what is best for him. He was with them for a week and they all had a wonderful time, but they came to a very difficult decision. They are doing what they think is best for the dog, which I totally respect.

He left on a Sunday, and came back on the following Sunday. They were willing to foster him, but I wanted him back. I put this much in. I’d like to see it through to all three orphans finding their forever homes.

It is time to figure out what “I might have wanted to keep him” means, now that it is an option.

I am certain there are other families out there who would love him just as much as we do. I am certain there are no other families out there who would love him more. I knew both of those things about Bear too. There is more to it than that, as I so difficultly had to stand by when letting Bear leave. I must ask myself, “Is there somebody that is better for him due to practical life circumstances?” and “How exactly does he impact the lives of the pets we are already committed to?” Most of all, I need to make sure that I don’t let the pangs of regret I feel for “having” to let Bear go, allow me to lie to myself about these answers. It would be easy to trick myself, just so that I can avoid a difficult goodbye.

That is where I am at today, with a puppy curled up at my feet, right next to Indy.

In the Middle Was Webster

One of the rescue founders took an immediate liking to Webster, so when he arrived at my house, he already had a hold placed on him, and he never went up on petfinder.

In the first couple of days I was more focused on Mindy, and then Darby when she got back from the vet. Webster was the easy one, not that anything about it was actually easy, but in comparison, the one that ate easily was definitely a bit less stressful.

A few more days in, and their personalities started to peek out, and he was the first one to wag just because he saw me. My heart melted. He got bigger and odder looking, with a head shape that spoke of a touch of something else thrown into the mix besides the screaming signs of GSD and Husky. He was adventurous like Darby, but less independent. He was very snuggly like Mindy, but more independent.

I’m kind of crazy about him.

I might have wanted to keep him. I don’t really know. I can’t really know, because I didn’t have the option. Wanting something when you can’t have it, is a different thing. I know I didn’t want him because somebody else wanted him, that just isn’t one of my triggers. I might have accidentally gotten too attached though because he was already spoken for. He was safe. Since I didn’t have to worry about accidentally keeping him, I might not have put up the proper “not my dog” barriers that I’ve always worked to maintain with the others. When they have nobody the urge to keep them all is definitely there. A dog without a family makes me feel so sad for the dog.

However it happened, it happened. I felt like, if I could keep him, maybe I would. Indy liked him. She was tolerant of all of them, but he was the only one she ever tried to engage with. I was pretty sure that he could be raised to continue being great with the cats, since he was so young (Bear and Xander had a problem with each other). Also, really, this was just unique. I had bottle fed these little guys and gotten up every 20 minutes to deal with all the poo. Somewhere in all that, apparently too much oxytocin was releasing, because I felt intensely maternal about this set of fosters.

So, Webster left on Sunday, a day later than planned because of a vaccine side effect.  Several days after Darby left the orphanage, and one day before we sent Mindy off on a plane.

I cried.

I cried for London

and Bear

and I just cried.