Fostering and letting go

A few months ago, when I got an email from the shelter that they were in need of short-term, large-dog fosters, it wasn't like I had started feeling that four dogs would be no big deal. I just gave in to the knowledge that even if it is a bit stressful to have this many wild, wacky beasts around, it is what I must do. 

That, as I read somewhere recently, living your best life means living on the edge of what is comfortable and manageable. So I took in Grant, and Grant was (I thought at the time) the easiest, sweetest, calmest dog ever, and he was adopted in less than a week. 

Then I took in Presley, who seemed like the sweetest, most good-natured, precious, incredible dog ever, and I wasn't sure I could ever let him go, and then he was adopted in less than a week.

That was Saturday, and on Monday I picked up Smokie, who is currently folded up against me, breathing deeply and relaxing, after stretching out against me and letting me hold him in my arms during a zoom yoga and meditation session, who is just the sweetest, most precious, gentle soul, just so happy to be loved and to have deep contact with other beings who love him, so happy and friendly and playful. 

He has a likely adopter lined up already.

And as I felt his velvety, soft warmth against me, adding to the sensation of fulfillment and joy and celebration that has come into my life lately and that comes over me especially when I am in meditation, or in the garden in the sun, I wonder again if I can let him go. 

How do you let go of such a beautiful being, one who knows such love in this house, one who is already attached to me and to all these other dogs, who seems so happy here and so grateful?

But I had the same feeling with Presley, and I will have the same feeling with every foster dog, and if I had given in to it with Presley, I never would have met Smokie, and I needed to meet Smokie.  

Letting go is one of the most challenging things we must do, but it allows space for growth and for the next delightful thing. 

And as I--right now--move into letting go of some of the things I have tried to hold on to for the past two years, and move into a more joyful space of experiencing what is in front of me rather than endlessly processing what is broken and in the past, fostering dogs is the best expression I can imagine of the liberation and love that is possible in letting go.

Back to Fostering!

While it is true that four large, strong, active dogs is a lot for one person to manage, it is also true that living one's passion is the key to a good life.

Good news for Presley!

I just picked him up this afternoon. Got him home and had to really think about what to do next. How do you introduce a new dog to three reactive pit bulls who are likely to be all kinds of inappropriate at first greeting? 

I decided to put him in the basement, then take one dog at a time out, tether that dog to the base of the stairs, then bring out Presley and walk him slowly to the tethered dog. 

First Dahlia, because she was the most grumpy with my last foster, Grant. Dahlia seemed to like him right off the bat!

Then Fozzie--no problem, as usual. Then Princess Sky. I wasn't worried as she was easy with Grant. 

But she was tense with Presley! What to do? 

Princess might be testy but she is testy in a good way--she warns loudly, but is clear that she wants to avoid real conflict. So I felt pretty good just leashing up the two of them and bringing them for a walk!

And by the end of it, even Princess was feeling pretty accepting of our man. Now they are happily lounging around, play bowing, humping, and even relaxing together.

There's no question that having a new foster dog is exciting and a bit stressful, and life would be easier if I didn't do it.

But I've been thinking lately about what makes life meaningful, and redeemable. 

What makes me feel that if I died today, I would die having done what I was put on this planet to do? For me, it is rescuing animals. The stress is a small price to pay for feeling like I am living my life's purpose, especially when I also get the chance to smooch with a loving, fluffy, deserving package of joy who needed a place to crash and some warmth and love.

The 200,000 Satos of Puerto Rico

You heard all about the scenery and adventures of our trip to Puerto Rico, but just a little about dogs--who were an enormous part of our experience. 

We drove all over the eastern 2/3 of the island, traversing many windy little roads. And on pretty much all of them, we saw dogs. Most of these strays--satos, as they are called--once belonged to a family, many have been on their own for a long time. 

Most were on roads with some houses, and those taco stands you see everywhere. Apparently a lot of people just leave their dogs in those places thinking that they can scrounge from the trash piles. 









How compassionate. 


But some were on roads with very little human habitation. I don't know how they survived. Fortunately there were lots of streams everywhere we went, and maybe other wacky tourists stopped and fed them. 


All of them were really hungry, and a few were friendly, cuddly, and waggy!



















We quickly realized we couldn't go anywhere without dog snacks so we stocked up. 

It felt good to feed and cuddle with them, but it would have felt a lot better to load them all up in the rental car and take them to a better place.

We did that with one. I was napping as Florian drove back from the caves, and he woke me up at the sight of a black and white dog by the side of the road. Skittish at first, after I put down the rest of our food he started to change his mind. Two friendly officers were on the roadside and came to help; they said he'd been there all day and was following them around. They thought he was probably abandoned because of the bit of mange on his face. 

This was a big road with no houses or water anywhere and I knew this pup needed help. Florian wasn't sure we should do it but when I went around behind the dog and lifted him up to put him in the car, there wasn't much else to be said. 








That picture is from before two slices of pizza, this picture is from after.



He was pretty much on my lap the rest of that trip. I named him Papi. 

I really wanted to sleep with him that night but the hotel wouldn't let him in, so we got him 3 cans of food and some mixed veggies and yucca, which he devoured, and I stayed out in the car with him all night. 

When I walked him, he kept stopping to jump up on my legs and hug me.

In the morning, we brought him to the Humane Society of Puerto Rico in San Juan, where we were devastated to leave him but encouraged by the assurance that they are no-kill and by the evident kindness of their staff. 

That was at the beginning of our trip, and the next few days we traveled around and saw all those other dogs, and some goats. 

I was happy to learn that there is a proliferation of rescue groups on Puerto Rico and that they frequent some of the roads we traveled feeding and picking up satos like the ones we saw.  

There are also groups dedicated to rescuing dogs from the beaches, which is another place where many get dropped. 










But I could not stop thinking about Papi. 

Fortunately Florian's rubber arm was easily twisted to go back to the shelter on our last day, which was an opportunity to meet some of the other babies up for adoption there











and to have a somewhat deeper connection with one of them.  

And we got to take Papi for a walk! 

He was so happy to see us. Hard to leave him again but I felt much better. 




















When we returned from our trip, I set about right away researching what help exists for the satos of Puerto Rico. After emailing about five organizations that rescue, feed, spay and neuter, and arrange for the travel of the island's strays, I heard back from the amazing people at Island Dog. 

And a few emails and Paypal transactions later, and Papi was out of the shelter and romping around with his rescuer's six dogs.

Not long after that, he was on a United flight bound for New Jersey and the Humane Society of Atlantic County. And just days after that, he was adopted!

I hope he is eating lots of pizza and having the best time ever. I have no doubt that he is cuddling and jumping up to hug his adopter at every opportunity. 

One down, 199,999 to go. Who wants to help? 

Marshal's New Adventure

The timing for our beach trip was perfect, because the day we came back was already a bit blustery and much colder. 

Then it got so cold, in fact, and damp and clammy that all three dogs got to wear jackets.

Which became another opportunity for me to appreciate the fact that many of the dogs I get from the Washington Humane Society are the same compact mini pittie size. 

Marshal absolutely rocked Dahlia's hand-me-down hoodie, don't you think? 

Speaking of Marshal. Before Christmas I heard from a woman who had a playful, but not overly energetic dog and lived on two fenced acres. She heard from the shelter that Marshal might be a good match, as he was playful, but not tooooo playful and also liked to rest. 

I was a bit skeptical about that last part and was sure that Marshal would drive this woman, her husband, and their dog out of their minds with his wacky playfulness and insane noises. But they also have a neighbor with an extremely playful dog, Bane, who lives right behind them, so Marshal would have no shortage of playmates. And they have teenage kids who are at home. I agreed that we should meet.

They all came over to my house last weekend, and their dog Mya, also from the Washington Humane Society, was a bit wary of the young whippersnapper at first. But I kinda thought they would do well together, as they sniffed appropriately and wagged around. Mya's people were sure they'd be OK, and I had a good feeling about these people and the way they just loved Marshal. 

So right there we drove down to the shelter, they filled out their papers, and they drove home with Marshal!

Marshal very thoughtfully sent me this update:

I went for a walk today and met a new friend. His name is Bane, and we had a blast running and playing. I also discovered there's a super cool space under the deck in my backyard that beckoned me in. My new mom gave me a treat for coming out (I think she was worried). I am fascinated by the water in the fish pond, and love to weave in and out of the shrubs surrounding it. I know you miss me and I miss you too, but please know I'm doing great and my new family really loves me. Thank you for taking such good care of me helping me find them. I look forward to your visits!







I don't have too many shots of Marshal in action with his new friends yet. But I'm pretty sure he's having a good time. 






















Letting go of a foster is not easy, and every time, before we find the perfect adopter, I worry and fret that the perfect adopter won't come along. This time I'm pretty sure they did.

Congratulations Marshal! Don't drive your new family too insane.

Hope in Trying Times

As the human race continues on its inexorable journey toward complete batshit madness, I feel ever more justified in finding solace in the sole company of my dogs.

One of the most relaxing, reassuring places for me to be is on my bed, reading, while the dogs engage in their own madness around me.

Like every dog I've had, Marshal and the others are completely placid during the day when normal people are up and about, doing activities. 


















At night, when most of us want to unwind and relax, is when all hell breaks loose.  

Marshal is sweet, calm, and shy during the day, and a complete demon at night.

I am not sure if you've had the opportunity to watch the international cinematic masterpiece known as The Human Centipede. If you haven't, please don't. Marshal, Dahlia, and Fozzie's 3-way hump-fests provide all the preview you need. 

Marshal is so full of energy, so hyper, so incessantly annoying to the other dogs, he makes Dahlia look like a Zen master. 

Which puts me in mind of my first months with Dahlia, when she was humping and nipping and bouncing around and driving me and Fozzie and Florian out of our minds for five hours every evening, and I wondered if it would ever end. 

And look at her now!
















Come to think of it, Fozzie was no elder statesman at first either. It is hard to remember because now he is so mellow at home, so sleepy and affectionate and tolerant and loving--but even Fozzie was a disaster once. 

Just putting it in perspective like that makes me think what a fantastic dog Marshal will be. He already loves affection, loves people, is good with kids, and has a great attitude toward other dogs. Not an ounce of real aggression. He just happens to be in that unfortunate stage of development known as puppyhood, that makes him behave like a complete lunatic and make noises that sound like the soundtrack to a horror movie about ravaging mutant zombie werewolves. 

Unlike for humans, there's great hope for Marshal! 

If only it were a matter of a few months of development for us, too, to leave our ravaging mutant zombie selves behind and evolve into our calm, loving potential.

If I could send a foster dog to the people of Paris to somehow assuage the pain of what they've been through--fuck, if I could recruit young ISIS militants as dog foster parents to rehabilitate them, give them hope, and set them back on a path to sanity--I would do it.  But I fear our path to sanity as a species will be far more difficult. 

What do YOU do to stay hopeful in times of insanity? 

Marshal the Shy, Sweet, Foster T. Rex

It was so wonderful to foster Sky Princess that I decided to jump right into it again. We were matched up this time with Marshall!

Marshal was found as a stray, so it's not surprising that he's shy about meeting humans.

When I got him from the shelter he walked along beside me tentatively, and he had to be lifted into the car--climbing up himself was too scary. During the ride home, he didn't seek out affection but he accepted me petting him as he sat in the passenger seat beside me. 

Shelter staff told me they were giving him to me because his play style was annoying to most dogs, but would fit right in at my house. 

Sure enough, Marshal and Dahlia soon discovered how much fun it was to wrestle, chew, and hump one another.  

These first few days, Marshal is still a bit uncertain about being in the home. He seems to only know what to do when he is playing with Dahlia 










and definitely does not understand the concept of just relaxing and hanging out. Which is pretty normal for a 9 month old dog, especially one who was a stray. Just think about how hard it must be to relax when you're living in the streets! Poor baby. 

We are trying to just slowly let him build his confidence by trying new things while learning a bit of structure. 

Like, you know, learning that there is a time and a place for chewing on your playmate like you are going to rip each other's heads off, and making blood-curdling noises like a Tyrannosaurus Rex. 











Made a really good soundtrack and some terrifying scenes for Halloween night though, let me tell you. 

It is reminding me of those first few weeks--no, months--with Dahlia, when I wondered if she would ever settle down. Puppies are just nonstop wackiness. 

Marshal, you just be yourself and enjoy! It's good to have you, in all your gentle, wacky glory. 

Sky is Coming out of Her Shell

I've had Sky for a week and I was starting to think that she was just a shy, very quiet dog who just wanted to cuddle.

She's happy to go on walks but not urgent about them, and she doesn't pull on the leash but walks right next to me so she's touching my legs. She's tolerant of Fozzie and Dahlia and a little interested in them, but not overly excited or eager to play.  

All she's excited to do is to be right by my side at every moment. If I sit on the couch with my computer, if I get into bed to read, she wants to be as close as possible. When she sleeps with us at night, whenever she wakes up she tries to get closer by putting her head or half her body on my chest. 




I was thinking that she's just a dog who doesn't have much of a play drive, or is so nervous she just needs the reassurance of being touched by her favorite human at all times. But Friday night, there was a thunderstorm and my sister, Uncle Johnny, and my niece were all over so there was a lot of excitement and little Sky must have just gotten swept up. 

Fozzie and Dahlia were as usual attached to each other's throats, and Sky decided it looked like a lot of fun. 









There's the playful pup that was hidden behind that shyness!

I sort of had the feeling this side of her would show itself eventually. 

All along, she's seemed a little overwhelmed by Fozzie and Dahlia's intensity but curious about it, and not put off by it. Much as they wrestle and growl and crash into things every night, she would just watch, and she wouldn't shy away. 

It was good to see her finally engaging with them, especially with Dahlia. Maybe she's still a little nervous about Fozzie.

It is so sweet to watch them interact and see how they all clearly like each other! Sky is so easy to get along with, and my dogs are not--but Sky obviously sees their good hearts shining through all the dysfunction. That's kinda how I feel about them too. 

I've let Sky stay over at my sister's house a couple of nights, as my niece and Sky love each other and I am kind of hoping they all hit it off and she finds her permanent home right there. It is still wrenching to let go of her and not sleep next to her every night. 

But my intention is to try not to keep her, it really is! 

The Perfect Dog: Meet Sky

This is Sky. 

She is sweet, shy, gentle, and after a day together already glued to me. She was brought in to the shelter with another dog who had parvo, but she never got infected. 





She was terrified in the shelter though, so as soon as she was declared parvo-free the shelter staff matched us up for foster.













I brought her home on Friday, and she sat half on my lap the whole way home. 

It was chilly and rainy outside, and she seemed so happy to be in an enclosed space with the heat on and a person to cuddle up to!

When I got her home she was definitely a bit nervous, but already more relaxed than she'd been in the shelter. Even with my dogs making a racket, she took it all in. Shy but curious. And relieved. 

We cuddled on the couch for a while and she still wanted to be right on my lap. 

Then I let her in the back yard, and she sniffed around a little, then launched into the happiest, most gangly-limbed fast zoomies all around the perimeter, like it was the first time she'd really gotten to stretch those legs in I don't know how long. 

Then she kept me awake all night, sleeping right on top of my shoulder and waking up every now and then to sniff the air. But I don't care. She is the sweetest, easiest little pup I've had in forever. It's been almost a year since we had Keller, another little precious thing I didn't want to let go of, and it was time to try it again and see if Dahlia could be halfway civil. So far, so good!

Think she'll get adopted so fast I won't have time to get attached?

Or is it already too late?

Euthanasia for Lack of Space and Shelter Transparency

Bones

Anyone remotely associated with the animal rescue movement over the past ten years would agree that we have made enormous progress. Not long ago, the majority of animals turned into shelters didn't make it out alive, and not due to any unsolvable medical or behavioral failings of their own. 
















Today, a quick Google search reveals that about 2.4 million "healthy, adoptable" dogs and cats are euthanized each year, and many shelters in unlikely communities are releasing more than 90% of their animals "out the front door," alive and into adoptive homes, rescues, or sanctuaries. These shelters often rightly advertise their save rates, proclaiming that they are no longer euthanizing for lack of space.

Just a few years ago, the number of animals euthanized was closer to 4 million--so we are making enormous progress, and fast.  But if you work or volunteer in a shelter, or if you are heavily involved in animal rescue, it is natural to question these numbers. 

Lima Bean

What does a 90% live release rate really mean?


















Does it mean that 90% of adoptable animals are really leaving through the front door? 

Or does it just mean that "adoptable" has a new, more narrow definition? Does it mean, by any chance, that a healthy pit bull who loves other dogs and loves people, can be euthanized because he has some separation anxiety, or barks a lot, or is having trouble with housetraining, and is therefore "unadoptable"?

Does it mean that animals whose owners request euthanasia, can be killed without altering the shelter's proclaimed bottom line--even if the request is prompted by behavioral issues that may be relatively simple to address? If the shelter euthanizes those animals without conducting its own evaluation and attempting its own interventions, should the shelter's "live release rate" be unaffected? 

And if, once we get answers to these questions, we find that a shelter is in fact euthanizing for lack of space, the next question is why? 

Why would a shelter with a number of empty kennels euthanize for lack of space? 

Why wouldn't a shelter house compatible animals in pairs or small groups, to dramatically reduce stress and accommodate more? 

Why not aggressively promote foster programs, and let existing fosters know when help is needed? 

Penny

Why does a shelter, like Prince George's County Animal Management Division in Maryland, euthanize around 6,000 animals a year when there is a demand for roughly 27,000 pets every year in that county, and the shelter makes available for adoption only around 9,000 animals? 





(And incidentally, why in God's name is PGAMD closed on Sundays, which may be the only day working people have available to look for a pet?)

Of course there are lots of possible reasons. Shelters are understaffed, underfunded, they can't afford enough trained staff to do all the behavior modification that would save lives. 


Potential adopters want a purebred dog, they want a puppy, they want a goldendoodle.

And of course, some shelters are undoubtedly succeeding despite all that, and have every reason to trumpet their high live release rates because they are real and the result of a lot of hard work. 

NuNu

The Washington Humane Society in Washington, DC has seen enormous progress in its live release rate in large part due to the success of its phenomenal Trap-Neuter-Return program for feral cats. The many communities that lack these programs will be hard-pressed to reduce their euthanasia rates...a fact that DC's Department of Energy and the Environment should consider as it contemplates rolling back TNR as part of its proposed Wildlife Action Plan. 





Some communities of course face far more challenges than others in saving lives, such as densely populated urban areas and areas that suffer from a dearth of pet-friendly housing. Prince George's County is among several that still have pit bull bans on the books, meaning that all pit bull-type dogs that come in the county shelter's doors face euthanasia if they are not rescued by an entity from outside the county. Situations such as this of course pose a monumental challenge to getting the majority of animals out alive. 

To raise questions about live release rates and transparency is not to minimize the enormous efforts that many shelters have made to save lives, nor is it to suggest that achieving save rates near 100% is an easy task. It is merely to demand that claims about shelter successes be accompanied by complete, clear definitions of terms used, and articulation of the challenges that remain.

Shelters should not fear being honest with their volunteers, adopters, and even their staff about the grim realities of not being there yet with respect to No Kill. An increasingly educated public will increasingly demand that they do so anyway. Getting out in front of that trend will only encourage loyalty from those who understand both the challenges, and also the ultimate feasibility, of achieving live release rates that blow away all notions of what we once thought was possible.