More Tricks Than Treats

Missy dressed up as a bee for Halloween and greeted trick or treaters at our door. She has such a great temperament that she didn't blink an eye when young trick or treaters shrieked in her face. She also didn't care when the ridiculous parents of said children screamed (in all seriousness), "Don't pet that dog! She might bite!" However, Missy did find it funny that I replied, "She won't bite. She'll just sting you."

Now would you believe me if I told you that this is not Missy? In fact, it's our new foster dog, Sophie! We couldn't resist taking her in. She's a really sweet dog—more cocker spaniel like than Missy and about 10 pounds lighter. The two of them are just so cute together. Both are easy-going girls who just love being around people.

Okay, now how about if I told you this was Missy and Sophie's long lost foster sister? Well, you'd have to believe me. It's Karina (now Winnie)! Her adopters bought her the same bee costume and sent me this picture! Doesn't she looked thrilled?

PUP-DATES: Calendar Photo Contest

My love of pup-dates can not be understated. It's so rewarding to hear how these near-and-dear-to -my -heart dogs are doing. Luckily, pupdates have been plentiful during a week when I've been in desperate need of pick-me-ups.

Why this week? Our rescue is holding a photo contest for adopted animals to be featured on a 2012 calendar. Many adopters have sent in photos of their pooches along with some quick updates of how the dogs are doing.

Wookiee (now Chewie) sounds like the world's best dog. He is one mellow, hairy dude who loves playing with his brother, Zeus. He's gained about 10 pounds since November, which he desperately needed because he was all fur and bones with a case of whip worms when we had him. His adopter says Chewie is a real nature lover who stops and smells the roses outside.

Karina (now Winnie) is really settling down in her home. Her separation-anxiety and dog issues seem to have abated. Her adopter sent me a bunch of pictures to browse through in an effort to pick the best ones for the photo contest. In all of them Winnie is either at work with her adopter or commuting to work. (Sounds like my own life!) Regardless, they were all adorable, but this is my favorite one.

PUP-DATE: Karina

I received another pup-date from Karina's family. (And by Karina, I mean Winnie, which is what her people call her now. Does anyone else have problems with calling their old fosters by new names?)

Karina continues to make progress settling in. Her separation anxiety has dissipated. Her people are working with her dog-to-dog interactions. They sent along this picture of Karina on her union-mandated lunch break. I miss that dog, but I look into those eyes and know she is loved.

Lots and lots of PUP-DATES!

We've been dog-less for over a week. You forget how quiet and lonely (and clean and easy) life is without a dog. Sigh. Regardless, we need to take a break with wedding day less than month away. In the mean time, I have some updates on the dogs to share:

Chloe was adopted by a local couple. They are working on house training her—something we only put a dent in during her time with us.

Jagger's family sent along this photo.
He loves his duck!

Jagger's trial period ended and—drum roll, please—the couple decided to adopt him! During the trial, they both fell in love with him and witnessed some of his bad habits, including drinking from the toilet and guarding the home. They acknowledge he's a great dog, and they want to be the people to help him. They are hiring a trainer to work through the rough spots. Major kudos to them for giving this boy a chance.

Bella's people say she's doing well. I haven't heard much else, but sometimes no news is good news.

Karina/Winnie at work. Working
hard or hardly working?

Karina is settling in to her new life. Initially she had some separation-anxiety issues. This was probably due in part to the fact she goes to work every day with her person, so she is anxious when left alone. She's getting better week by week, so this is good news. Her person just loves her to pieces, as does the office staff where she works. The biggest news, I suppose, is Karina underwent a name change. (For real this time—no April Fool's joke.) She is now Winnie. [Side note: I miss her, but the neighborhood kids miss her more. They're always asking for our big black dog that likes to play soccer.]

Jack is still living with the same foster who did the switcheroo with us. We saw him a few weeks ago when we stopped by her house. He was in the backyard—jumping and running in circles like a hyena. Apparently he spends hours and hours doing this. There has been a fair amount of interest in him, but nothing has panned out so far. (Non-negotiables with Jack's adoption include having A LOT of space for him to run and dog experience so he doesn't take over your household.) I just found out he has a promising adopter who he'll meet next weekend. Please cross your paws that it works out for this handsome boy.

Karina’s Last Hurrah

It’s Karina’s last night with us, and I’d be lying if I told you I’m not sad. Don’t get me wrong—I’m so pleased that she found such a wonderful home. But the selfish part of me wants to wrap my arms around this dog and not let her go.

She’s been such a constant and stable force in what has been a stressful few months. I had originally planned on not fostering during the semester—thinking that running from work to school and back home to take care of a dog would just be too much. It was just the opposite. We were able to work out our schedules to make sure we were home when we needed to be. (And my better human half picked up a lot of my slack.) No matter how crazy/stressful/tiring a day was, there was something comforting about knowing Karina would be at the front door, wagging her tail and flopping over for a belly rub. 

But it’s time to let go. Her upgrade is here, and she’ll give Karina so much love and attention for the rest of her life. That’s all that matters.

So we’ve spent the last week celebrating just that and enjoying our time together. We took her to the park for a Memorial Day picnic. She was so well behaved, sitting under our picnic table. We treated her to a celebratory Frosty Paws. (This seemed like a good idea at the time, but I'm not sure I would recommend them because they didn’t seem to sit well with her.)

We’ve let her run around the house like crazy with Jonathan’s soccer ball. We used to stop her when we thought she might puncture it. But this week our philosophy has been, “Go ahead, pooch, have a ball.”

And tonight, we’ll probably let her sleep on the bed, even if it means getting a horrible night’s sleep because that bed is not nearly big enough for the three of us. We’ll cuddle and tell her we love her and will miss her, but much better things are waiting for her. And, with those big brown eyes, she’ll remind us that other dogs are waiting for us.

ADOPTED: Karina for the Win!

In late February, a few days after we took Karina in, one of my colleagues popped into my cubicle and stated bluntly, "You need a win." (I think this was around the time that Charlie Sheen was walking around mumbling things about winning.) Nevertheless, she was totally right. I was buried in school work and work work, and I was still feeling badly about Jack and the switcheroo.

I thought that this win would come quickly—a week, a month at most. After all, Karina is a ready-made dog. Crate-trained, housebroken, basic commands. Just open the door, and let her in. Sure, she isn't great with cats or other dogs, but she is just a doll. She makes the case for walking into a shelter/adoption event and saying, "Give me a dog with a heart of gold. I don't care how much she weighs, what color her fur is, how old she is, or how many teeth she is missing. Give me the sweetest dog you have."

Well, 14 weeks later, we got our win. A very nice woman contacted us about Rina this week. She has a unique situation in that she can bring a dog to work with her. (How jealous am I?) As such, she needs a housebroken dog that is friendly with people, but can settle down when it's time to work.


Does she like car rides?, she asked. I have a bit of a drive to work every day.
Without a doubt, I answered. She stands by my car on our morning walks in hopes she can hop in.

Is Karina a good co-worker?, she asked. 

Unequivocally yes, I replied. I work from home on occasion and she's a better co-worker than some humans. 

She came to adoption day today with her boyfriend to meet Karina. She asked all of the right questions and more. She wasn't scared by Karina's medical history with heartworm; she understood it meant being vigilant about preventative for the rest of her life. She loved that Karina is a BBD (she had a 100 pound Rottweiler previously), and she loved Karina's one white toe. She loved everything we have come to love. And this is only the beginning of their love story.

After talking it over with her boyfriend, she came up to me and said, "She's the one." Her eyes filled with tears, and so did mine.

We'll do a home visit and drop Karina off at her forever home on Friday night. Our good-byes will be bittersweet (and I'm sure I'll cry.) Karina will always hold a special place in our hearts because she really could have been a dog we kept. But I'm glad we held out for her upgrade, as Jen at Inu Baka calls it. We simply couldn't imagine a better home for her.

Win for Karina's new family.
Win for us and the rescue.
Win for Karina.

Life Lesson #2: Compassion

My apologies to the next person who
rents this graduation attire. I'm sure they
will wonder why it smells like cinnamon
graham crackers...

Life lesson #2 was an expensive one. I'm afraid to pin the exact cost on it, but just imagine what 34-graduate credits at a highly-priced university will run you these days.

Today I finished my master's degree in something unrelated to dog-ology—literacy education. The graduation speaker said something mildly inspirational. The rain came on and off. And I looked out upon the carefully manicured grass at the stadium thinking, "Damn, Karina would love to run circles in this yard." (Are the Steinbrenner's looking to adopt a dog?)

My daydreams brought me to the realization that these two passions of mine—at their very core—are strikingly similar. I recalled one of my professors who created a literacy program to address the needs of the hardest-to-reach readers. They're the kids with behavioral issues who get pushed to the side. They're the kids with special needs who are overlooked. They're the diamonds in the rough that need a little extra attention in order to shine.

Sound familiar? These kids are the shelter dogs of the school world. My professor offered a quote that inspired her to create the program. For that costly diploma, I can't even recall the exact words, but to paraphrase—a society should be judged by how it treats its most vulnerable members.

And if that's not a life lesson to live by, then I don't know what is.

How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?

"How much does she cost?," a woman asked me at adoption day yesterday.

It's a question that gets me every time, but I'm sure I'm overanalyzing the semantics. Surely most people mean to ask, "What is the adoption fee?" or "What donation should we make if we adopt the dog?"  I answer with the usual: "The adoption fee for dogs is $300. It's a tax-deductible donation that includes vetting costs, such as spay/neuter, all age-appropriate shots, heartworm and flea/tick preventative, etc."

But the idea that this dog could "cost" something really irks me. How could you pin a price tag on an animal's life? How could I ever tell someone what Karina is worth?

Well, this soon turned into an research project....

First I went to a local pet store—not a reputable chain that has made the wise decision to partner with rescues instead of selling dogs and cats. I'm talking one of those seedy mall pet stores. These places buy their dogs from puppy mills where female dogs are bred over and over and over again—without regards to the heredity, health or safety of the mom or pups. The puppies are kept in absolutely deplorable living conditions before being sold to brokers for a few hundred bucks before being passed on to your local seedy pet store.

I laid eyes on a lab puppy and asked a young woman working there, "How much does he cost?" The woman looked down at her clipboard, then said, "That lab? He's a sweetie. He's discounted to $1800." $1800!!!!!!!!! I almost fell over. My undercover-research poker face probably needs some work, because she followed quickly with, "But ma'am, we offer financing programs. If you can put half down now, our interest rates are very low...". The seconds of my life that would have been wasted by continuing that conversation were not worth it—not even for this research project.

Then I started to think about how much dogs "cost" from breeders. I'm sure there are many reputable breeders who care deeply about the health and safety of their animals and the breeds they represent. However, I still can not imagine doing this as long as there are homeless animals crowding shelters. But I digress...

I sat down at my computer and found this site of a breeder in California selling labs. (I know nothing of her reputability. I'm simply using her site for reference of costs.) The costs of her dogs averages around $2,000. (Others are $6,000!) But here's where I almost fell over for the second time in one day: If you leave a puppy with the woman past its 8th week of life, you can pay to have it crate trained—FOR $350 PER WEEK! (I was very shaken by this. I can't tell you the amount of time I've spent [and number of trains I've missed in the morning] trying to crate train my fosters.) She also says to email her regarding the cost of other training, such as sit, high five, leash, and house breaking.

Finally, I did a little more research into general veterinary fees (as I don't know actual amounts) in order to determine what Karina actually "costs."

   $1,900 = "Purchase price" (I realize she's not a purebred, but even the British monarchy is embracing mutts these days, so just go with it.)
   $10,850 = Training for the 31 weeks she has been with the rescue (She can do everything mentioned above, except the super important "high five" trick.)
   $150 = Spay (based on estimates)
   $1,000 Heartworm treatment (based on estimates)
   $300 = Food (based on estimates)
+ $150 = Veterinary preventative care (based on estimates)
___________________________________
Bringing the grand total to $14,350.

$14K would be a steal. This dog is worth so much more than any dollar amount could ever begin to signify.

My Better Half

She’s become my sidekick, my right-hand man, and my better [canine] half. She’s become my stress reliever, my stable constant, and my calm within the storm. She’s become my confidant, my shoulder to cry on, and my best [canine] bud. She’s become everything I could ever want in a dog. 

What I struggle with the most is that she’s a dog who seemingly no one else wants—except me.  

My other better half (the human one) is the voice of reason and tried to thwart off my persuasive attempts toward adoption:

She doesn’t bark, he says. Dogs should bark. Non-barking dogs in condos make for happy neighbors.

She farts, he says. Every dog farts. Plus, you’re not going to adopt me out because I fart, are you?

She smells, he says. Yeah, like cinnamon graham crackers.

She’s too big to sleep on the bed, he says. So what? We’ll buy a bigger bed.

She’s too big for this condo, he says. So what? We’ll buy a bigger house.

For every excuse, I have a comeback—however irrational. So now he reminds me of the truth. We started fostering to help as many dogs as possible. Adopting Karina would mean we couldn’t continue to foster. We could take an overnight guest once in awhile and keep the dogs separate. But having a constant flow of dogs in the house would be impossible with her.  

Some of my friends have said, Just adopt the damn dog. But I’ve reached the point where I know adopting this dog is selfish. She can be placed elsewhere. Despite our lack of success thus far, I know she’ll make a great pet for a lucky family.

And so, I tell Karina that we’re waiting for her upgrade to come along. You know, Rina, the family with the big backyard where you can run and not sit around this condo and gain weight? You know, the one with the kids who will chase you around and dress you up in funny outfits? You know the one I’m talking about, right? She drops her head in my lap. We have to help other dogs, Karina. She looks up. She understands, but I’m not sure I do.

A New Marketing Plan

Karina at adoption day

I know very little about marketing, but I can tell you that the typical advertising channels aren't cutting it for Karina.

• Petfinder: I've updated Petfinder with photos, videos, and endearing descriptions on a religious basis. We've had some inquiries, but nothing has panned out. (It doesn't help that Karina isn't overly photogenic. She is a thousand times cuter in person.) 

• Adoption Day: These events are held every Saturday at a pet-supply store. People come in  and fall in love with her. But since it's a pet supply store, these people almost always have dogs or cats at home and that won't cut it for Rina. 

• Signs: I've hung up signs at local businesses and other places of work. I even asked a honky tonk local web site if they would post a virtual flyer of her. They told me it would cost $35. Seriously?

And so, after almost three months, I've decided it's time for a new marketing plan. It needs to involve Karina looking cute in real life, a place that's populated with at least some pet-less people, and it can't cost $35.

• Step 1: Order cute adoption bandana. 
• Step 2: Put said bandana on Karina and bring her to places where people gather.
• County park on Sundays
• Outside of ice cream parlor on warm days
• Little League games on Saturday afternoons
• Church on Easter morning (Yes, we went there. We were walking through town on Easter morning. What Would Jesus Do?, I asked myself. Jesus would adopt this dog, I decided before sitting down on a bench outside of the cathedral. So we sat there as one mass let out and another one was about to begin.) 
• Step 3: Talk to people who approach. Why yes, we say. She's very friendly. You can pet her. She loves kids. Karina knows the drill and does her thing—the lab lean, sloppy lab kisses, etc. She wins them over within seconds. Then, we go in for the kill. You know, Karina is up for adoption. She's our foster dog, and she's looking for a good home. The response is invariably the same: Really? This wonderful dog? Then the nice people say they would love to give Karina a good home, but they don't have the time/money/space/[insert other reasons here.] Some proceed to tell you their life stories. Before parting, we pass along Karina's info and ask that they share it with anyone who might be looking for our sweet lab.
• Step 4: Go home and wonder where Karina's future people might be. Mope, then update Petfinder for the millionth time. 

Karina's Name Change

It's something about Karina's name. My co-worker has been hounding me about it. (Get it, hounding?) My mom has been bugging me to no end. It's time. Karina needs a name change. It just doesn't fit.

My colleague even went so far as to ask an expert if Karina is a good name for a dog. The expert unequivocally said, "Karina is a horrible name for a dog." That expert just so happened to be another colleague by the name of Karina.

And maybe they're right. Maybe something about the name is deterring adopters. Is it something about Karina the Ballerina that doesn't work with a BBD? I'm afraid so. It's time to mix things up.

So I tried calling Karina (ahem, not Karina) other names.

Shadow? No response.
Licorice? Not even a blink of the eye.
Raven? No way in hell, she said.
And then...
Toto? That's me, that's me! she seemed to say, as she barreled toward me.

And so, I present our foster dog, Toto.

April Fools! :) You didn't think I was serious, did you? Karina is 100% through and through.

And, with that, please go check Karina out on Pet Blogs United today. She's being featured for Foster Friday!

Desperate Plea

I sent out this desperate plea for help to my Facebook friends:

Please someone ADOPT this dog. She is so sweet that I can't handle it anymore—her snores, the way she plays with the rubber chicken, her signature "lab lean." I'm falling in love with her more and more every day. Please help!

But no one has yet to answer this cry to take this really awesome dog out of my home and my life for good.

Failed Fosters (or, Are You Going to Keep This One?)

A few weeks ago, the rescue held a meeting for volunteers. We went around the table, introduced ourselves and our capacity within the organization. Many of the volunteers concluded their introductions with "... and I'm a failed foster." This means, of course, that they adopted one (or two, or three, or four, or five) of their foster dogs or cats.

One couple—who did not have a dog of their own—just recently "failed" after fostering dozens of dogs over the course of a year. Another couple "failed" and adopted a special-needs dog they had fostered for some time. The list goes on and on.

So it's not a surprise that I've been asked this question a lot: ARE YOU GOING TO KEEP THIS ONE? My co-workers keep asking. My friends keep asking. My mom keeps saying that she wants a real "grand dog" and not "grand foster dogs." Don't get them wrong; they all love that we foster. But they can't wait to see us fail.

The answer, for now, is no. We are not going to keep "this one" or any one any time soon. Here are a few reasons why:

1) We live in a condo complex where technically you're only supposed to have one dog. If we adopt a dog, then, according to the rules, we can not foster another dog. (However, many people break these rules. As long as the dogs don't cause a problem, no one complains. We could work around it.) With our schedules, it would also be a task for us to keep up with two dogs. I wouldn't count us out, but let's just say it wouldn't be easy. In essence, for every dog we adopt, that's one fewer space for a foster dog.

2) We have a busy summer coming up and will probably need to take a doggie break. We'll be gone most of the month of August, so we can't take responsibility for a dog then. (In my opinion, we need to hold off on "failing" until September; Jonathan thinks we should make it much longer.)

3) We haven't fostered a dog that would really make "failing" logical. All of our foster dogs can (and will) do better than living with us.

Wookiee, although very cute and lovable, was not our kind of dog. You know how dogs look like their owners? He didn't look like us. Plus, he was our first foster. You can't fail on the first one.

Jack, although smart and charming (at times), does not belong in a condo—by any stretch of the imagination.

And Karina, well, this girl could easily be my best friend. But, as a lab, she too deserves room to run. She also isn't great with all other dogs, which means fostering another dog would be a logistical nightmare.









In my heart of hearts, I know that one day, logic won't matter. The timing  might be off, but a dog might just come along and fit right in stride with us and our lives. (Who knows, he or she may even "look" like us.) At that point, we'll fail. We'll fail miserably. And everyone will celebrate.

BBD

If I told you that Karina had a syndrome you could help cure just by changing the way you think, would you? [This is where you say yes.]

You see, I'm beginning to think Karina has a case of Big Black Dog syndrome, or BBD for short. Have you ever heard of it? Large, black dogs are often the last to be adopted out of shelters and rescues. As a result, they have a disproportionately high euthanasia rate. It's especially true of black labs and lab mixes. They are a dime a dozen in most places because litter sizes are usually quite large.

I started to sense this bias at adoption day, specifically with children and their parents. One child came to pet Karina, and the mother shrieked, pulled her away, and directed her toward the puppies. While our dogs at adoption day have great temperaments, I think there's a much greater likelihood of a puppy nipping at the child's fingers than Karina giving anything but kisses. (Did I mention Karina is great with kids?)

So, what is with the human perception of black dogs?
• Black dogs are difficult to photograph. Their pictures appear dark and blurry on Petfinder.
• In dimly-lit shelters, they are often difficult to see.
• Many large, black dog breeds, like Rottweilers and Dobermans, have bad reputations as aggressive dogs.
• They often appear older than they really are because gray hair shows on their muzzles more easily.
• Different forms of media have created a negative bias toward big, black dogs. Think movies, books, and folklore/mythology. (I'm looking at you, Jo Rowling, for portraying the Grim, the omen of death, in the form of a big, black dog.)

I'll admit it. In the past, my heart would skip a beat if I saw a big, black dog approaching. And I've even been thinking about this on the other end of the leash too. I was walking Karina around 3 a.m. a few nights ago and saw a man walking from afar. While I'm sure he was just stumbling back from a bar, my gut reaction was that I would be safer because I had this big, black lovebug of a dog with me.

Take this test, and be honest. Which of these labs would you choose?

I borrowed this test from this website.

Will you do Karina a favor? The next time you see an oversized, black dog, do what you would do with any other dog. Ask the owner if the dog is friendly and if you can pet her/him. Then shower him/her with love. Karina thanks you.

Karina's 15 Minutes of Fame

7 minutes: Sara over at Foster Dogs in NYC was kind enough to post Karina on her blog and on Facebook. She creates great publicity for the pooches, so make sure to "like" Foster Dogs in NYC on FB.

7 minutes: Jen at Inu Baka linked to the post about Karina's home visit. (It fit really well into a discussion she had going about procedures in rescues.) Be sure to check it out; the comments created quite a stir! 

1 minute: On a lighter note, here's Karina caught on candid camera—with a rubber chicken. Watch it a few times; it never gets old. :)

The Art and Science of Home Visits

When I told my mom I was going on a home visit with Karina on Sunday, she recalled being on the receiving end of these rites of passage. A rescue came to "check us out" in process of adopting the family golden retriever, Abby. At the time, my mom thought the rescue’s procedures were a bit invasive.

This is my post to convince her (and others) otherwise.

Home visits usually happen after an application has been put in for a dog and we believe it could be a good match. The home visit is not a white-glove inspection. It’s not for the rescue’s volunteers to gossip about the size of your home or your interior decorating or how much money you make. After all, these things are of little value to us. In our own home, our couch has turned into a giant wee-wee pad, our comforter has been chewed to pieces, and our carpet has more vomit stains than I care to think about.

The point of a home visit is to make sure that the dog and the people will both be safe and comfortable in the living environment. We look to see that the dog interacts with all family members—human, canine, feline—in a positive way. We look to see that there are no utterly apparent dangers that could pose harm to the dog. For dogs with special requirements, such as a fenced-in yard, we make sure that their needs will be met.

On Sunday, I drove out to Pennsylvania to do a home visit with Karina and her old foster mom. The family was extremely nice; they were true "dog people." Karina, while a bit jumpy and curious, was a doll with all of the family members. When they let Karina out into the fenced-in back yard, I was so busy thinking about how much she would just love being able to run around for hours. Then her old foster mom, who has years of rescue experience, pointed to the vertical slits in the 4-foot fence. Because we know (and the family knew) that Karina has issues with other dogs, she suggested that the family ask their neighbors to let their dogs out so Karina could meet them through the fence.

Despite a mildly positive initial introduction, Karina went bonkers on one of the dogs. And the slits in the fence were so wide that the dogs could stick their muzzles through and potentially do damage to each other’s faces. And, being that it’s a 4-foot fence, we believe that Karina could also jump it in pursuit.

Before even meeting Karina at adoption day, we told the family she was dog selective. They said it would be fine because they are a one-dog family and don’t frequent the dog run. But at the home visit, the family saw the reality of her behaviors in their own background. With a teenager who would be letting Karina in and out most days, they didn’t feel comfortable putting their child, Karina, or the other dog in that situation. And I don’t blame them. The family decided not to adopt Karina.

And this is what the home visit is for. It’s the most accurate indicator of what life will be like if you adopt the dog.

It’s one thing to buy a cute puppy at the pet store; the employees could probably care less if your home has dangling electrical wires or if you're hoarding dozens of animals. All they likely care about is commission. But when you’ve poured your blood, sweat, and tears into a dog, as Karina’s old foster mom has done with her, you need to find a really good match. So while it may be tempting to jump at “any” home, you have to face the reality that not every home will be perfect for every dog.  

I’m 110% confident that family will find the perfect dog to fit into their home. Karina was just not it. 

Karina, Karina

To uphold our end of the switcheroo, we took sweet Karina. At this point, it feels like we are the Mets trading our worst minor-league reliever for the entire Yankees starting line up.

Something about her just exudes sweetness. Maybe it's the way she wags her head and her tail in unison. Maybe it's the deep snores she lets out mid nap—like a sweet, old grandpa snoozing in a recliner on a lazy, Sunday afternoon.

Karina's foster mom found her wandering the streets of a nearby town. Emaciated and covered with a skin infection, Karina was also heartworm positive. The rescue treated Karina for heartworm and now, several months later, she's as good as new. (She just needs to go for a follow-up test in a few weeks.)

We're told she's about 2 years old and, as if you couldn't tell from that goofy smile, mostly Lab. She's house broken and knows some simple commands like "sit" and "down." She is fairly good about going into her crate, but even better at hopping up on the couch. We're labeling her as "dog selective" for now. (That's the part of the reason why the switcheroo [am I really still calling it that?] worked out so well. We're the only fosters in the rescue without another dog.) We were told that she gets along with some dogs, but not others. She might be best as an "only dog," but we'll have to gather more information. We hope to bring her to adoption day on Saturday and see how she does. Cross your paws!

The Switcheroo

Jack is a handful. He wants to be king of the world. There is no doubt about it. Over the last few weeks, he has taken it to the next level—being possessive over his bones (OK—acceptable), growling when I pet him (what?), and guarding our bedroom (I just want to sleep!).  Then, at adoption days, he has been less-than-friendly to some people who approach and pet him. [If you recall, these are some of the behaviors that the adopters noted.]

What happened to the gregarious dog that we knew? Surely he wasn't feeling well and was cranky. So we took him to the vet. Was it a thyroid problem or Lyme or something else? Probably not. He showed no signs of lethargy or loss of appetite. Was it a simple ear infection or intestinal parasite? Nope, not that either. What was it?

I'm convinced it's us—his foster people, but specifically me. Jack is Jonathan's sidekick, his partner in crime. The vet pointed out that we both need to be equally firm and in charge. We should do our equal shares of working with him, feeding him, and walking him. Well, therein lies the problem. Part of the deal for continuing to foster through this hell-ish semester of grad school was that Jonathan would take over much of the day-to-day responsibilities. I spend so much time at work, in class, commuting, and doing school work that taking the dog for an extra walk at night has just become impossible.

Maybe it's our fault for even agreeing to take him in the first place. A Border Collie in a condo? We thought it would be fine for a week or two. If we had ever imagined it would be 3 months, then we might have said no.

The last straw came on Saturday. A very nice couple with lots of Border-Collie experience came to adoption day with the hopes of adopting Jack. That glimmer of hope quickly vanished when Jack growled and barked every time the couple approached him. I knew these people would be great with him because they kept trying. They approached different ways, with different treats, in different locations. But it didn't matter. Jack wanted nothing to do with them.

With time, resources, and some space to run, we might be able to work with this dog. We see his potential. But right now, we just can't do that. We can't give him what he needs.

So we asked another foster with more behavioral experience and a big backyard if we could do a "switcheroo." She kindly (very, very kindly) agreed. On Sunday, we went to her house, dropped off Jack, and picked up her Karina. (More on Karina later.) We know that the change of environments is stressful for the dogs, but we hope that the situation will be better in the long run.

I cried as we drove away. We always joke about "foster failures"—those that end up adopting their fosters. But here, I felt like a failure for giving up on a dog that I loved. His needs are just beyond us; he has shown us what we still need to learn.