I always miss my kids when they are adopted – Sandie, Scooter, Georgia, Lil’ Bit, Hershey & Po have all found homes – Sandie went home with a new friend whose daughter played soccer with Vannesa in the fall; Scooter, Georgia, Lil’ Bit, Hershey & Po were all adopted as a result of SCHS networking. They’ve all gone to wonderful families, and the people who adopted Sandie, Lil’ Bit and Hershey are now my friends on Facebook, so I’m getting to watch my babies grow up, which is nice. Scooter’s family emails me photos now and then, and I’ve gotten a few photos of Georgia via text. I love technology. I really do.
I’m used to having a little time between adoptions to get used to one of my kids being gone before I have to part with another one. That’s not the case this time. Po was adopted by a very excited young vet student who took him home this past Saturday. Merry & Pippin, my private rescues, are boarding a transport tomorrow morning for North Shore Animal League in Port Washington, NY. I’m not used to Po being gone, and now Merry and Pippin are going too.
I’ve taken stock and this leaves me with Chunkybutt and Baby in foster care, and of course my own Max, Peaches and Maggie. Chunky’s the last of Maggie’s puppies. He’s a big, handsome fellow, with a wonderful long black coat and a laid back personality, and I’m baffled as to why he hasn’t been adopted. Baby’s going to be with me for awhile yet – she has to have surgery to correct her bi-lateral luxating patella (that is, dislocating kneecaps in both hind legs) before she can be put up for adoption.
So what am I going to do with just five dogs? Back when I still had five of Maggie’s pups and all nine of Baby’s, plus Max, Peaches, Maggie and Baby, I was running day in and day out and I was pretty sure I was crazy – or getting there fast. Now my life is about to get back to normal (whatever normal is, when applied to the life of a canine foster mom), and I’m sitting here tonight unable to comprehend the fact that I’m ONLY going to have five dogs!
Am I going to take a break from fostering? That’s a tough question. I don’t know. I think I should take a few weeks off – we don’t want my husband to get burned out, after all – I rely on his assistance in every aspect of my various insanities. He lifts heavy stuff, drives long distances, helps with feeding, bathing, walking, and playing, and gives me his version of pep talks when I’m feeling blue. (Think, “I hate all these animals in the house, there’s hair everywhere – but you’re really good with the dogs, they really love you. You’re doing a good thing. I hate all the hair.” That’s the Mr. Camp version of a pep talk.)
Will my impulsive nature assert itself again? Probably. I definitely won’t rule out anything. I’m pretty sure there are puppies in my future, and more than likely adult dogs as well. In spite of the fact that Maggie’s the first black dog I’ve had in several years, and Baby the second (not counting Maggie’s black puppies), I’m partial to black dogs. I’m also partial to large dogs, though small ones aren’t so bad as all that. I foresee a future with many black dogs. Of course I won’t limit myself to the black ones – I’ll take in a dog in need regardless of shape, color or size (or religious affiliation, sexual orientation, nationality or political preference).
I’m typing this and a commercial is on – one of those Sarah McLachlan ASPCA commercials – and I’m reminded yet again why it’s ok to let my kids go, even when three of them go within such a short period of time. It’s so I can rescue again. There are animals in the shelter that the ASPCA and the Humane Society and all of those other rescue groups can’t help, because there are more homeless pets than there are foster homes. The longer I hold onto my kids, the longer a homeless pet has to wait for a rescue that might not come in time.
So I’ll be saying goodbye to Merry and Pippin tomorrow morning, and it’s too soon for me, but I’ll be ok. I’ll probably cry, but I’ll be ok, because three less foster puppies means that some other dog or puppy is going to have a chance… And that’s why I’m doing this, after all.
My younger daughter, who is 13, and my son, who is 16, have both expressed their sorrow that they always get attached and always have to say goodbye. I told them both tonight that when we stop getting attached it will be time to stop rescuing – because after all, it’s not fair to the dog if we don’t love it for however long we have it.
I’m becoming a pro at letting them go. I just hope I never get used to it.