They’re sneaky and steal things.
Like your heart.
They sneak up on you with wistful brown eyes, reach into your soul, and you want to keep them forever.
This is called a foster failure. The foster families who want to keep their foster dog.
I was never a foster failure. I would never do that because I know how important it is for the next dog coming up to stay with me until he has a family.
But some do.
Some, scratch that, most foster moms I know have several foster failures and I can see why.
Scooby.
He’s why.
Scooby came into my home on a breath of fresh air. Although transport said he was cranky and fought with the other dogs he hasn’t shown a bit of aggression to anyone. Not my fourteen year old golden, Halston, not my cantankerous old calico cat, Gizzmo, not anyone who ever stepped foot into our home.
His transport people were gentle and did their best but he must have been so scared. Once he had a home. Then life happened and he was dumped, lost, scared, picked up, put in a cage, shipped on a truck with lots of big, noisy, scared dogs. The truck stopped and he was taken out of one cage and shoved in another with more scared, strange dogs.
I’d probably snap at someone too. . .
Scooby is love wrapped in fur. All he wants out of life is to play and to love.
When he first came into our home he gave Halston a sniff and ran to Gizzmo to play. I guess since Gizz is about the same size, Scooby thought she was another playmate. Gizzmo was not amused. To this day, three weeks later, she’s still not amused with Scooby.
I work full time.
Scooby is young.
When I’m gone I crate him because he seems to think everything is a chew toy. I’m afraid he’d electrocute himself or something when I’m gone.
He leaps the gate so I can’t even leave him in the kitchen.
And I want to keep him.
My heart breaks at the thought of giving him away.
>sniff<
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