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.

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.

Love That Dog

This must be how parents feel. They have their first child and love that child more than they thought their hearts were capable of loving. They have a second child and worry if it’s possible to make room in their hearts to love that child as much as the first. But their hearts grow wider and they do. (Or, in the case of my own parents, they love that second child even more than the first. I kid, Mom and Dad, I kid.) In some cases, the third or fourth (or even more) come along. And their hearts grow and grow.

I’ve found myself in that position. (I realize, of course, that children are not dogs and vice versa.) With Wookiee, it was love at first sight. I fell head-over-heels in love with that fur ball. I was convinced that he was the physical manifestation of love. [And we only had him for one week!] I doubted that another foster dog would come along that I could love like that.

But he did. He was black and white and fuzzy all over, and his name was Jack. And although I’ve called him lots of different variations of that name, I actually called him Boo Bear in our quiet hours. It took a little longer for me to love that dog—to trust each other and to grow accustomed to each other’s idiosyncrasies. It was the logical type of bond that grows slow and deep. I love that dog.

For those of you who live in the world of children’s literature like I do, you probably know Sharon Creech’s book, Love That Dog. It's a series of poems written by a boy who happens to be named Jack. When Jack's teacher tells him to write a poem about a pet, he writes,

So much depends

upon

a blue car splatted with mud

speeding down the road.

As Jack grows as a poet throughout the school year, he opens up about the loss of his dog, Sky, and finds solace in his writing. The book ends up with his poem, Love That Dog.

Love that dog

like a bird loves to fly

I said I love that dog

like a bird loves to fly

Love to call him in the morning

love to call him

“Hey there, Sky.”

This love story is not too different from another one I know by heart.

When Jack's forever family picks him up tomorrow, they'll begin to write their own love story together. And we are so grateful to have been part of it. 

Pup-date: Wookiee

We received an update from Wookiee’s adoptive family. They say he’s a total love-bug. (That’s really an understatement.) He plays all day long with this brother, Zeus. They run around for half an hour, conk out, then do it all over again.

 

Oh, and by the way, the family has decided to formally name him Chewy.  It might have been because when we meet them at adoption day, strangers came up to pet Wookiee and immediately said, “Chewbecca!” It was our original inclination too; it totally fits.

The family sent along this photo of Chewy after he’d been groomed. He’s all grown up. He makes his foster parents proud—really proud. 

ADOPTED: Wookiee Went Home

A text message of three simple words was enough to bring me to tears today: He went home.

When Jonathan and I brought Wookiee to adoption day this morning, there was already a family there waiting for him. They had driven quite a distance to meet the little Wookster and to see how he would interact with their Tibetan Terrier mix. Unfortunately, we couldn't stay for long because of an appointment with our wedding caterer. We spoke with the potential adopters, then left Wookiee in the care of the rescue's volunteers, telling them we would be back after our appointment. 

It didn't really occur to us that Wookiee would be adopted out—right then and there—and that we wouldn't get to say goodbye. But he was. So in the middle of our meeting, as the wedding caterer droned on about napkin colors, Jonathan's phone vibrated with the text, "He went home." Maybe the caterer thought I was overly emotional about burgundy table linens. But the truth is that my heart was somewhere else in that moment. It was in the back of a family's car where Wookiee was on the brink of starting a new life that he deserves so badly—a great family who will pamper him, a big yard to chase squirrels, another dog to play with, and to love and be loved in return.

You wouldn't think it would be so hard to say goodbye to a dog you only knew for one week. But it was, and it is. Even for just a short time, welcoming these creatures into your home takes 110% of your heart and soul. We were warned that the first one would be the hardest; what makes it harder is that Wookiee is a really great dog. Just seeing the progress he made in a short amount of time is enough to make us very proud foster parents. 

So tonight, after we cleaned out his crate and washed out his bowl, we went out to dinner and toasted to Wookiee going home.  May the force be with you, Wookiee! 

Dog Meets World

A number of things have become abundantly clear to us in first few days of fostering Wookiee. 

First, this dog is damn cute. No matter which way he looks at you or how stubborn he's being, his little, furry face just melts your heart.

Second, this dog is not feeling at his best. (Luckily, Wookiee seems to be his one-year-old self now that he has had some medicine.) 

Third, this dog has not yet met the world. On walks, he's very cautious with curbs and grates and "For Sale" signs and people walking by holding umbrellas. Which leads me to the story of Wookiee v. the Purple Umbrella. A few nights ago, I grabbed my purple umbrella as I prepared to take Wookiee out for a walk. I figured that, like some dogs, Wookiee might not be a fan of the rain so I thought we could both fit under the umbrella. Not so. He wanted NOTHING to do with the umbrella. He scampered and crouched down. Once we finally got moving,  he dashed out far ahead of me and stayed there for the entire walk. But when he looked back at me and the purple umbrella, he freaked out.

Once we got inside, I tried to introduce Wookiee to the purple umbrella. He was fine with it closed. He sniffed it, then moved on. But with the umbrella opened up, he dashed to the other side of the house—even without seeing the pop! If you think about it, umbrellas are pretty funny inventions anyway—the way they transform from one thing to another in less than a second. I don't blame Wookiee; he probably thought it was some crazy magic trick. But we'll work on his little umbrella fear.

Another thing we're working on is learning how to play. Perhaps it was because Wookiee wasn't feeling well, but it appeared as though the pooch knew nothing about the world of play. For days, Jonathan and I channeled our inner canines and modeled how to chase after a ball and play tug of war. But Wookiee has just watched—unamused. Then, last night, Wookiee took it upon himself to go into a basket of toys and take out a white teddy bear. He threw it up in the air, caught it, then chewed at it.

So while the video below may simply look like an adorable dog with a fear of purple umbrellas chewing his toy, it's actually great progress in the education of Wookiee meets world. 

"We Have a Wookiee!"

At 9pm last night, we received a call from a volunteer telling us, "We have a Wookiee!" 

Wookiee was rescued from a shelter in Virginia. He made the trek yesterday from VA to NJ with the help of some dedicated volunteers. The volunteers have organized an underground-railroad type transport system. Each volunteer drives a stretch of the trip, then hands the dogs off to the next volunteer. When Wookiee reached us last night, we gave him a good meal to fill his belly and a good scrub-a-dub-dub bath to get rid of that shelter-dog smell. Shelter dog, no more! We're putting Wookiee on his way to his forever home.

We're told that Wookiee is a terrier mix and is about one year old. He was recently neutered and is heartworm negative. He's cute as a button and sweet as sugar. He'll be up for adoption on Saturday, November 20.

If you look at the photo below, you will see that we do indeed have a Wookiee. We're just having a hard time resisting the urge to call him Chewy.