Foster Flunkie

Today's post is part of the I <3 Dogs Tour Week. Visit Tour Host Small Town Rescue for links to other blogs participating this week and to see how you can win prizes! And remember, if you'd like a copy of Vet Tech Tales: Vol 1, just let me know in the comments or by email. I'll be happy to send you a FREE e-copy in the format of your choice.

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Today's guest post is by Karen Hartman

A few years after our first Sheltie died, my husband Tim and I wanted to help other Shelties find forever homes. We decided to help by fostering Shelties in our area, so we found a nice rescue and filled out the appropriate paperwork. Soon after, the group contacted us to schedule a home visit. One of the volunteers came to our home with her Sheltie. She was very thorough, asking us lots of questions and watching intently as we interacted with her and her dog.  We must have passed the test, as we were quickly added to the foster system.

The foster coordinator had a list of dogs entering the rescue group and worked hard to match them up with foster families. She tried to give newbie fosters (like us) an easy first dog, to get our feet wet. Ours was a scared little blue-eyed girl named Buttercup.

Buttercup was very thin, weighing only 10 pounds. She needed to put on at least 3-4 pounds. She had flaky, crusty ears and the hair was missing on most of her legs. She trembled as I put her into the car, and I wondered what kind of tragic life she had been living. I brought Buttercup to our home and, once she was inside, I took the leash and collar off her. She immediately went to “hide” under a side table in the living room and watched my every move. Each time I walked near her, she cowered.

After a few hours, I tried to take her outside. I called to her, but she wouldn’t come near me. I started towards her with the leash and she ran away, into another room. As I tried to coax her back onto the leash, I recalled the foster coordinator telling us to keep the leash and collar on her for the first day or two. If only I had remembered that guidance sooner! Buttercup eventually fell asleep, and I took that opportunity to slip the collar and leash back on.

For the first few days, Buttercup was quite wary. I took her for a medical checkup and got some ear drops, pills, and special shampoo from the vet. She was apprehensive, but willing as we applied the ointment to her ears and gave her a bath. Little by little, we started to bond as her trust in us grew.

After a couple of weeks, her ears were better and she was putting on a little weight. Her hair was also starting to grow back in. And she was even starting to show a playful side. Soon she was healthy enough to be sterilized, a requirement for every Sheltie that the rescue received.  

Dec. 2009: Just a few months later - what a difference!

I kept the rescue updated on Buttercup’s progress and sent a personality profile with pictures for them to post on their website for potential adopters to consider. Tim and I would scour the adopters list, trying to find a family that would be a good match for this timid little girl. But every time we read through the list, we found reasons to reject each one. Oh, those people have little children – that would be too much for her. Hmmm, these people have another dog – I’m sure she wouldn’t like that very much.

Two years in and it's clear who rules this household.

Meanwhile, Tim would whisper loudly to Buttercup in my presence, “Maybe if you ask her nicely, she’ll adopt you!” I knew then that she had found her forever home. I quickly informed the rescue that we wanted to adopt Buttercup and shared the news on the group email. That’s when we learned they had a term for people like us – the ones who kept the fosters they took in. We were called foster flunkies. I’ve never been more pleased about flunking something in my life! And I’m pretty sure Buttercup was pretty happy about it, too.  

It’s been almost three years now. Buttercup is still pretty timid, but she’s definitely part of our pack. She has a full, beautiful coat of hair and she’s gained a good five pounds. She’s learned how to sit, shake, lie down, and wait, and she loves treats and licking the toothpaste off her toothbrush. She continues to be hesitant with strangers and uneasy around other dogs, but we’re working on that. 

Princess – Our Miracle Dog

Today and Thursday we'll have posts for the I <3 Dogs Tour Week. Visit Tour Host Small Town Rescue for links to other blogs participating this week and to see how you can win prizes! And remember, if you'd like a copy of Vet Tech Tales: Vol 1, just let me know in the comments or by email. I'll be happy to send you a FREE e-copy in the format of your choice.

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Today's guest post is by Karen Hartman 

How do you choose just one animal as your favorite? Maybe it’s easy for others. But if you asked parents to choose a favorite child, I think many would balk, saying “Oh, we love Johnnie and Susie equally, just in different ways; we could never pick a favorite.” I feel the same way about animals (maybe because they are the closest things to children in my life). So instead, I’ll tell you about the first dog I had as an adult.

My husband, Tim, and I had recently married. He’d just received his military commission and moved to South Carolina, while I stayed in southwest Ohio for a couple of quarters to finish my graduate degree. That’s when Princess came into my life. 

She was about a year old when I adopted her – a happy little Sheltie who was eager to please. I was a couple of hours from family and didn’t have many friends in the area. Her companionship was a real blessing – it helped make the final months in Ohio fly by.

Princess and I joined Tim in SC, and she quickly acclimated to the new home and to having a man in the house. She was initially scared of Tim (she was always wary of men, especially tall, dark-haired men), but they soon became friends. Tim would come home from work and play with her, which she loved. She tore around the house, twirling in tight little Sheltie circles and jumping up on him, smiling and panting. This became a nightly ritual; I don’t know who had more fun, Tim or Princess!

She learned many tricks: sit, shake, lie down. Tim was in a basic training unit–working with drill sergeants and new recruits–so he was beyond proud when she learned to low-crawl, scooting along the carpet on her belly, like a soldier out in the field. You can imagine how many treats she earned for that trick.

Princess went everywhere with us – boating with our family, hiking in the caves, even walking along the beach when we were stationed in Hawaii. She was a true “Velcro dog” – always within a foot or two of Tim or me, no matter what we were doing. If I was in the kitchen cooking, she’d be right there, sniffing around, trying to find crumbs I had dropped on the floor. When Tim was working at his desk, she would lie on the carpet right by his feet, just enjoying resting beside him. We used to joke that if she were an Indian, her name would have been “Underfoot” – she was constantly that close!

She was there in the bad times, as well. I can remember her sitting beside me on the couch while I was upset about something that had happened that day. She would look into my eyes and listen to me as I talked; it was like she could understand every word. Tim would often share his frustrations with her, too. She was the best therapist we could ever have. 

When we were stationed near Chicago, Princess was diagnosed with Stage IV lymphoma. We found a great oncologist who was trying a new chemo protocol. He said it would give her at least another eight months, with good quality of life. We gave it a shot. She ended up living more than four years, albeit at a slower pace, ever playful and happy. They called her a miracle dog. And she was, in more ways than one. 

Princess with "Mom" (Karen)