Foster Failure

One year ago, we became a family of thirteen. Our home - which included three humans, one canine, two felines, one hamster, and five fish -- made the unanimous decision to become a foster family...for dogs. We decided there was room in our home and our hearts to help a dog in need. We also decided that we had a spare 14 minutes in a given day and we'd offer that up to help a homeless pet.

After researching the topic, reading online material, talking to our vet, and speaking with friends who'd already made the plunge, we contacted the group Critter Calvary. Candace Giles runs this group and her work is awe-inspiring. She is a walking encyclopedia not just of dog breeds and available pets but of U.S. geography and the distance between a pet needing a home and a home needing a pet. She held our hand as we jumped into the process and it was she who introduced us to the term "foster failure."

Fos*ter - Fail*Ure:  To offer to host a homeless pet until a permanent home is found, but you fall in love with the pet before you can place him or her in a home, and wind up keeping the pet permanently. Thus, kind of taking you off the market to help any other pets.

"Oh no," we scoffed. "That won't be us. Although we have room in our home and hearts, we want to help a lot of pets and we won't get attached." (Famous last words.)

Candace said, "I've just the pet to start you with. Her name is Bailey. I think she's a Pug." (Well, two out of three statements being correct isn't terrible.) Bailey was in Memphis and needed a home and fast. If she couldn't be placed, her next destination was a "high kill shelter." I can't define that for you, but you can look it up or deduce probably. We sprung into action.

On May 9, 2013, Jason took off for Memphis. On the way home, he texted me:

Here she is.

I don't think she's a Pug.

When they got home, she ran and sat on the couch. It was an early indicator -- both that she felt she was home and that she's an awesome couch potato. I urged the family to love on her but to not fall in love with her. I told myself this, too. It didn't work. She's just a great dog. She's smart and curious and thrives on love and positive attention. I don't know what happened exactly in her days before us, but it wasn't all good, and I just don't understand that. Neither from a human perspective nor from a "what did she do to deserve bad treatment" way. You can lower your voice just one octave and say her name and she cowers and starts to shake. We realized we couldn't treat her like the rest of our family. She needed special care to learn that not all humans are bad and that she didn't have to continue scratching out an existence.

She slipped into our hearts like she slipped onto that couch. If we were playing outside, she was right there with us. If we were having family movie night, she asked "what are we watching?" (and displayed a deep love for popcorn even though we told her dogs aren't supposed to eat it.)

We knew we wanted to keep her but felt so guilty. Here we were, trying to do something good and we flubbed it up. I like to think giving this one dog a warm, loving, forever home is a good thing. I wished we could have helped more pets, but as for this one, I don't think anyone could love her more than we do.

Now, before you haul off to adopt, let me tell you it wasn't all easy and rainbows and unicorns. For instance, although we readily accepted her, the other pets didn't exactly roll out the welcome mat. We didn't see the cats for weeks. And, we had to learn the hard way that two dogs, especially an established one and a new one (and both of the same gender!) shouldn't share a food bowl:

So, we got smarter. And we signed Bailey up for some private, one-on-one classes with a great woman, Laura Dickens, at PetSmart.

Now, one year later, we don't remember her not being part of this family. And hopefully she doesn't either.

I love going camping. Chasing squirrels and sometimes those humans drop hot dogs. Does it get any better?

I am fiercely loyal to and protective of the shortest human in the house. Even when she does this to me.

And I still like couches. And this one and I have learned to co-exist. Life is good.