The Foster Dog and the Swiss Guy

The first day I brought Fozzie home, I had some initial misgivings about whether I had done the right thing. 


Florian, on the other hand, was in love at first sight. 




In fact, when we visited the PG County shelter and made the rounds, Florian was the one sticking his tongue through the bars of the cage and making it a forgone conclusion that I would take Fozzie home when I returned the next day, even though by then he was in the area of the shelter designated "disaster" because he had failed his evaluation and was no longer up for adoption to the general public.



With every foster dog I've brought home, Florian has declared "this is the best one" as he's stared into its eyes and gathered the traumatized creature close to him under the covers at night. 




We've had Fozzie so long that I was beginning to believe that this time he really meant it, that their connection was so strong that there was no other love that could take Fozzie's place in Florian's heart. 

That is, until we got Sandy.  
























I wonder if my boyfriend is what you might call...fickle? 


These dogs' physicality and desire for intense contact make them ideal for this Swiss dude, who grew up too busy studying ballet and hiking the Swiss alps to have a dog though he always wanted one.


So I've got a boyfriend who is utterly devoted to me although he spends his days surrounded by lithe athletic 17-year-olds in tutus, but who will fall in love with any foster dog I bring home without so much as a backward glance at all the foster dogs who have gone before.











I think I can live with that.