For several years now, my Facebook friends have played this game where they post pictures of cute dogs to my wall. I have seen some mighty cute dogs, so when this little guy showed up in my feed one Monday morning, I commented "zomg cute" like I usually do, and then went on with my week.
His name was Han Solo, and he was coming into Secondhand Hounds, a local rescue. He needed a foster home, but I dismissed the idea immediately; the timing was terrible. Not only had Maisy just recently started feeling better, but her vet care had completely drained me financially. Add to that the fact that my friend Laura was going on a two-week vacation, leaving me in charge of her dog Maus. One doggie acquaintance and one doggie stranger at the same time? I'm not that dumb.
I'm really not sure why, but I kept going back to this dog. Now, it wasn't just his adorable scruffiness- like I said, my friends have been playing the "post muppety dogs to Crystal's Facebook" for awhile now. There was just something in his expression.
I don't really remember why, but that Thursday, I was telling my friend Nicky about him over lunch. Of course she encouraged me to foster him. I figured that something so cute was probably already spoken for, but I went back to that original Facebook thread and asked if he had a place to go when he arrived.
I filled out the foster application, clearly noting that if he got along with Maisy and my cat, I would probably become a foster failure rather than a foster home. I anxiously waited for them to check my references and contact my landlord, but soon enough I was approved to foster.
If I thought waiting for that was hard, waiting for him to arrive was even harder. Originally scheduled to arrive on Sunday, he actually ended up getting here eight days later. It was nerve wracking. I was so scared it was going to fall through.
In the end, it was probably a good thing; it gave me time to thoughtfully make some lists of what I wanted- and didn't!- in a dog. At the encouragement of my bestie, Sara, I was very, very specific. What exactly did it mean to be cat aggressive? Precisely how much reactivity was I willing to work with?
He's lived with us for about 72 hours now, and I'm 99.99% sure that I will be adopting him. I'm going to wait another week or so, just to make sure nothing awful pops up, but other than the fact that he's an adolescent terrier-mix, he's pretty awesome.
I know you probably have some questions- about the "foster" dog, about how Maisy is doing, what was on my lists- and I'll update you as I can. But I'll admit, this dog has way, way more energy than Maisy does, and I'm exhausted!