About this blog
Our family fosters dogs for Dante’s Hope in Baton Rouge, LA. So far, we’ve had over twenty-five foster dogs come through and eventually adopted. Each of these dogs have a tail (pun intended) to tell and I’ve decided to tell their tales. I’ve changed the names of the dogs to give them some privacy.
Solomon (aka Buddy, aka I want in your lap now!)
Solomon came to us when our house was already full, and we really didn’t have room for another foster. But the rescue societies were full, and the number of dogs needing homes way exceeded the capacity of those trying to save them. So, we bit the bullet and took one more in.
As a foster, you always want the ones that are easy to bring in. Those that are lovers, friends with everyone, and easy to work with. Sol, or Buddy as we took to calling him, fit the bill perfectly. From the moment he entered our home, he was friends with everyone in the pack and our cats. If someone sat down, he was in their lap, demanding attention.
One day, when a contractor took a break and sat next to the garage, he was quickly joined by Buddy, who preceded to love him until he laughed. Our A/C guys made him an honorary team member as he followed them around, trying to be of help. Actually, since Sol’s been here, he’s tried to go home with several delivery drivers, a couple of neighbors, the postman, and possibly a wayward possum.
What impressed us was his manners. We could take him outside and let him run around our place (we have a couple of acres for the dogs to run and play). But when it was time to come back in, he was first in line. If it’s bedtime, we tell him to kennel, and he runs right in. He does expect a treat, but I think it’s a State (maybe Federal) law that states when someone’s a good boi or gurl, they get a treat. I’m sure I’ve read that someplace.
Buddy’s one flaw is his dislike of the camera. Fostering dogs is often about posting flattering pictures and hoping someone reacts. Well, Buddy is one of the most photogenic dogs we could have except, and this is the maddening part, the second a camera is out, he turns into a stoned-faced dog who refuses to smile or look at the camera. To say we have hundreds of pictures of Buddy staring blankly into the lens is an understatement. Put the phone away, and he’s all smiles and loves. I had never thought I would have to resort to using a hidden recording device on a dog before, but it may come to that.
Solomon is available at Dante’s Home – Animal Rescue and desperately wants a family to love and a place to call home.
Brittany (aka Lil Brit, aka Baby, aka spoiled rotten Chihuahua)
Brittany, or Brit as I call her, came from a home that had a huge number of dogs that needed to downsize. When she arrived at our home, she was a little underweight and had never seen grass before. But Brit settled in quickly, eating her food, taking her medicine, learning that grass was for doing her business, and assuming her position of her Royal Chihuahuaness.
Brit has a love of all things soft and fluffy. If there’s a fluffy she can get to, she’s on it. On her first night, she slept under the covers in our bed, snuggling under the covers. Later, she explored the house in search of comfy spots.
The first morning of her stay, it became clear she was not a morning dog. When we went to take her outside to do her business, she zipped farther under the covers. We also learned that if the sun hasn’t been up for a few hours, it’s not time to get up—at least according to her.
Most dogs are initially nervous about joining our dog pack, but Brit had no worries. Comfortably walking under Moose (our 83lb Lab mix) as if daring the big dog to step on her. She’s also one of the few dogs we’ve received who prefer women. She loves my wife, she’ll tolerate me, but Brit hates my son.
Only Brit knows why she hates my son.
We took a short vacation for my daughter’s college graduation, and Brit stayed with our neighbor. At this point, we’re pretty sure Brit prefers our neighbor as she gets to sleep in, has freshly laundered blankets daily, and fresh-cooked chicken breast for meals. I asked my wife if I could get the same treatment.
You don’t want to know the answer I received 😊
As I write this, Brit is under my desk on a fluffy pillow, complaining that I did not wash and fluff it today. This is Brit’s idea of roughing it.
Lil Brit is up for adoption, and pictures will be on Dante’s Hope site soon. I will update this blog as things change.
Hugs
We had a short break between fosters when Hugs came to visit. At four months old, he weighed nearly 40 lbs. He should have weighed more, but we’re pretty good at fattening up dogs (and myself). My son picked him up from the adoption event and pulled up to the house with the car windows rolled down. It seemed that Hugs was in desperate need of food and a bath (aren’t we all), and the odor was a bit too much for him.
A quick bath, or three, later, and he was looking handsome. With a four-month-old puppy brain but already 40 lbs, it wasn’t hard to guess that Hugs would be a big boy when he grew up. Being close to the size of our Aussie/Beagle mix, Maya, they became instant friends, but it became clear Hugs was out of shape.
Years ago, I set up an above-ground pool. It’s 30 plus feet by 18 feet, and I even built a deck with stairs to allow easy entry and some sunbathing (per the Geneva convention, I’m not allowed to sunbathe on it lest my neighbors go blind). But with the kids graduating college, the pool was quickly repurposed to be used by the dogs. I spend countless hours cleaning the pool, checking the chlorine level, and patching the ancient pond just so our dogs can splash in the water during the summer.
It’s also the center post of one of Max and Maya’s favorite games, Chase. The game usually involves Maya (Aussie/Beagle/Curr/Royal Canadian Mountie) taking off with Max giving chase. Max (fluffy white demon from hell) usually chases after his sister, but after the second lap, he will reverse direction and take out his sister, going full hilt.
But the dynamics changed when Hugs joined the game.
The first lap was a nail-biter with Maya in the lead and Hugs nipping at her tail. Max, hot on Hugs trail.
By the second lap, Maya still held the lead, but Max was nipping at her tail. Hugs was a distant third.
The third lap saw Maya lap Hugs. When Max was also about to lap him, he decided it was a good time to save face and drop out of the race. The video is on my Facebook site if you get the chance.
Afterward, Maya wanted to swim. So I opened the gate, and she climbed up the stairs. My son followed along with Max and Hugs. We typically have a plethora of toys and will throw one for Maya and Max to swim out and retrieve. For Maya, it means climbing down the stairs into the pool and swimming off. For Max, it means going to the edge of the stairs, launching himself straight up, and cannonballing into the pool.
After throwing a toy for Maya, my son decided to show Hugs a ball and toss it into the water. He didn’t think that Hugs would go after it.
And he was wrong.
Hugs walked off the deck and sank into the water, forgetting that he’d never swam before. After playing submarine for a moment, he came back up sputtering and wailing away at the water with his paws. Now, most dogs would head for the stairs for a quick exit. Not so with Hugs, he paddled for the side of the pool, and I had to haul the wet mass of a pup out.
Hugs is currently available for adoption. Please check Dante’s Hope – Animal Rescue site for Hugs and the other pets available for adoption. Dante’s Hope – Animal Rescue (danteshope.com)
MeMe
MeMe was a Chihuahua mix pup. With her curled tail and unusual head, we suspected she was a Chihuahua/Pomeranian mix. Like most dogs we fostered, we played the ‘Guess the Breed’ game. It’s a game we play a lot, and rarely do I win. MeMe settled in quickly, checking the place out, and wandering around getting the lay of the land.
She was quickly identified as what we call a Ninja Licker. These dogs are quick to lick your face, hands, or whatever skin they can find. MeMe prefers the face and when she’s in your lap, you’re guaranteed a kiss, or twenty.
The pup in her came out when she encountered a mirror for the first time. Startled at first, with a bark following, she was ready to run away if the dog in the mirror attacked. Eventually, she figured out the other dog was just as afraid, and they left each other alone.
When we watched MeMe run, we noticed her gait was a little off. My wife looked over the new foster and found her right paw was smaller than her left. Also, MeMe’s left leg was slightly shorter than her right. This didn’t stop her from getting into everything and running around with the other dogs.
One of the fun things to watch of our fosters is how they interact with us. Some want to explore and not be bothered by those pesky humans, except, of course, for feeding time. Others want to be with us all of the time. As I write this, I have a ten-pound lap warmer, snoring in my lap. MeMe gave me a quick look when my typing bothered her. But her royal puppiness determined that I could continue, and she could ignore the din of my work.
Happily, MeMe has a furever home and we wish her the best.
Shaun
When foster dogs arrive at our home, they come to us in various states of health. Some rotund, others skinny, most needing a good bath and grooming. But Shaun came to us as a hairy mess of skin and bones. He looked like a Yorkie that hadn’t seen a haircut in quite a long time. When you went to pet him, all you felt was skin and bones. But he was a happy dog and sat quietly for his bath and grooming.
After he was shorn of his hippy look, it was clear Shaun was not a purebred Yorkie. Most likely, someone far back in his lineage had either dated a Yorkie or a dog that looked like one. But with his haircut and smiling face, he could pass as one.
At least from ten feet away.
Some dogs, when they arrive, they pace. Their nerves on end when introduced to yet another new environment. But others are just active dogs and have to keep moving if they aren’t in someone’s arms.
Shaun was one of those.
I work from home and typically have several dogs in my office with me as I work. They’re good at reminding me when to take a break. Our newest foster hated not being able to at least see a human and ended up in my office as I worked. At first, I kept him in his crate but eventually allowed him to roam the office. Occasionally, he was returned to his crate when his constant ‘Tick’, ‘Tick’, ‘Tick’ of his paws drove me to headphones. He wasn’t nervous. He just needed to see everything at least a hundred times.
For Shaun, doggie toy boxes were the greatest thing since rolling in something really stinky. Our little almost Yorkie loved nothing better than to barrel into the toy box, sending toys everywhere until he found the perfect one. This usually ended up being a ball, especially if the ball squeaked. When in his crate, he loved nothing better to make his toy squeak—for hours on end.
It’s a wonder I’m not on more medication than I’m already on.
With his small size and looks, we knew Shaun would be adopted quickly. True to form, there were several applications for him, but things took an interesting turn. An older lady reached out to the adoption agency that rescued him, claiming Shaun was her dog from a previous adoption.
The story, as I understand it, Shaun was the woman’s pet from the past. When she was hospitalized for an extended stay, he was surrendered to an adoption agency and subsequently adopted.
Twice.
Fast forward a few years, the lady continued to watch the rescue site. When she first saw Shaun with his long hair, she didn’t recognize her past pet. But when we posted pictures of him with his hair cut, she instantly knew it was her dog, Wilfred. After a few phone calls between all parties involved, it was decided she would come to the next adoption event and confirm Shaun was her dog.
At the adoption event, it only took a few moments for the two to recognize each other. The last we saw of Shaun, he was curled up, asleep in the arms of his new/old owner’s lap, and the woman ecstatic that her long-lost pup had returned.
We wish Shaun aka Wilfred and his owner the best of luck.
Petunia aka Tippy Taps
Petunia wasn’t supposed to be our foster dog. Another foster had her, and an adopter had claimed her. But the new adopter needed a few more days before they could pick her up. The issue was that the current foster was heading out of town.
So, we volunteered to take Petunia for a few days. We have five dogs. What’s one more, right? Oh, dear, lord! Shortly after we took her, the adoption fell through, and we had a new foster.
Petunia was another in a series of Chihuahuas we’ve been fostering. She was an adorable little creature that loved being in your arms, touching you, generally wanting to be your new appendage. Petunia loved men and started out as a nervous wreck unless someone, preferably me, held her. My son was a decent second, and Petunia only tolerated my wife.
While a loveable creature, she had a bad habit of screaming when she wasn’t being held or could at least see someone. Which meant she joined me in my office while I worked. Either in my lap or in her kennel next to me where she could see me.
But soon, she calmed down and joined the pack. When we let the other dogs out into the yard, she would chase after them. Being at best eight pounds, I was a bit worried when she chased after our eighty-three pound “Canadian” lab (that’s a story for another time), but he was careful of her.
Soon she learned to venture out. While she kept an eye on me, she began to wander farther and farther out. Eventually, she tried to play with our Chihuahua/Weiner/(your guess is as good as mine) dog Ace. Ace is an older dog and likes his food, bed, loves, and occasionally roaming the neighborhood. But he’s good-natured with other fosters and tolerated Petunia’s futile attempts to get him to play.
We used to have a “no dogs on the bed” policy that was broken when my wife allowed our white fluffy dog from hell (Max) to sleep on the bed. But he has boundaries, and the foot of the bed is where he sleeps. Max’s currently banned from at least one pet groomer when he went on a rampage. He’s fifteen pounds of loveable demon dog.
Trying to avoid a night of a screaming chihuahua, we let Petunia sleep on the bed. But as soon as we weren’t looking, she dove under the covers and made herself comfortable. That would be fine, except she liked to keep her four paws on someone. Most of the time, this was my wife. This meant anytime we moved, Petunia would reposition herself, driving her paws into your back.
Petunia was adopted by a couple with another “huahua,” and pictures sent show Petunia living her best life. We wish Petunia, and her family, the best of luck.
Jay
Jay was a black with brown markings Chihuahua mix. He was quick with the kiss, but his favorite thing was being carried. It wasn’t uncommon to have the ten-pound whisp of a dog, springing into the air, trying to jump into our arms. We called this Upsees.
Once in someone’s arms, he assumed the air of a royal looking down at his loyal subjects. Often our fosters pick one or two of us as their favorites. Sometimes it was me, sometimes not. Being the taller, scarier person, some dogs (and people) just can’t relate to me.
But in this case, I wasn’t the villain. While he preferred my son or daughter, he would come to me, happy to be in my arms. But I had to suppress a chuckle when the role of the villain became my wife.
After being disciplined a couple of times by my wife. His royal dogginess could no longer stand not being pampered in every way. Eventually, the two had some serious discussions, and I will leave it as they agreed to disagree. But henceforth, Jay barred my wife from Upsees.
One of the things we do as a family is to take a walk along the Mississippi River levee. We typically make an out-and-back walk that’s about three miles total. It’s fun to look out over the Mississippi River and watch the barges go by. We often see birds, turtles, and the occasional alligator (it’s Louisiana, after all!).
We typically take our three dogs, nicknamed the M’s—Moose, Max, and Maya. With my daughter home from college, we also took Jay. His first trip, he spent most of the time begging to be carried but did some exploring. After a couple of trips, he joined the small pack exploring the area or frolicking in the grass. On the way back, he wanted to be carried but considering his tiny legs, that’s to be expected.
He was quickly adopted, and we wish him the best in his new furever home!
