Poop warning!
There's nothing quite like walking in the door after a long day at work and getting that whiff when you walk in the door of "Uh-oh, which dog was it?" My poor pooches, they all have to stay crated while I'm gone at work. I always make sure they do their business in the yard before I crate them, but sometimes we have the random accident. As much as I hate cleaning it up, I always feel bad for the dog who did it. My bullmastiff, the unfortunate perpetrator-slash-victim, has been eating birdseed under the bird feeder the last few days, which I suspect is the culprit for her tummy troubles.
I envy people who have dogs that can be let to roam the house when no one is around. Its been years since I had that kind of dog, and since I will probably never buy a puppy again thanks to years working in dog rescue, I'm probably doomed to crated dogs forever. Dogs end up in rescues for a reason, and its usually that they are either (a) agressive or (b) destructive. Occasionally we'd see the puppy with no issues whose family just couldn't handle it once they realized how much time and expense came along with that cute little doggie they were bringing home from the pet store or breeder. Mostly, though, it was issues.
Our first foster dog is still with me. Hercules is going on 9 now, and going gray to boot. He was a foster for all of about five minutes. We brought him into the house, I sat down to try and post an update on the rescue webpage about him and all he did was bump my left elbow incessantly, making it impossible to type. He's the wise old man of the house, the trustworthy one...with everything except being left alone. Herc came into rescue due to severe separation anxiety. His former owners couldn't stand a destroyed house and crate any more and sent him off to the rescue group. Sadly, the one thing they didn't try was to get another dog. Herc's anxiety is pretty much nonexistent so long as he isn't left truly alone. If there's at least another dog around, he's just fine. He loves to sleep on the kids' beds at night, and he's the best dog to temperament test fosters with. He's just wise.
Seniors were always my favorite fosters. Often, they were only relinquished because they were old, which still makes me sad. Our first senior was Tanq, an 11 year-old sweetheart of a dog. The guy who'd had him all his life had to go overseas for a business venture, and his wife couldn't stand the dog. Since she was pregnant with her second child, that was her excuse to take the dog to the local animal shelter. Fortunately they advised her how poorly boxers do in shelters and convinced her to call the rescue group. We had Tanq for several months, since seniors are so hard to find placements for. He was honestly one of the best dogs I've ever had the pleasure to know. Sure, he was gray-haired, his breath stank and he had dog-farts that competed for top prize, but he was a pleasure to be around. Like most senior fosters, he was simply grateful for a soft place to sleep, a couple of good meals every day and some attention. He loved the kids, and would follow them everywhere. Tanq got adopted by a family in upstate NY who doted on him until he died of old age, several months later. I miss that old guy. After Tanq, we pretty much specialized in fostering seniors.
I'm grateful for the years in rescue. A poopy crate doesn't faze me anymore. I remember one foster, Diamond, who had come into rescue starving. We knew to limit the amount of food he would get, but he was our first starving foster. The first day he was alone for a few hours he practially exploded in the crate, poor boy. We were able to put him in a different foster home with a SAHM, and he gradually came back to health and found a good placement. But that mess...I was cleaning it up for days. DAYS. Just when I thought I had the last segment of wall/carpet/baseboard/desk sanitized I'd sniff up another spot that needed attention. Diamond stayed with us in essence LONG after he moved on to greener pastures, LOL.
I have to end this posting as I have a boxer on my left and a bullmastiff on my right who are bumping my elbows with their heads, insisting that giving them some love is far more important than writing a blog post right now. And you know, I suspect they are right.
