musings from the road: Foster Girlfriend

Nashville, TN: It's been three weeks since I've had Frank. In that time, we've gone on at least 25 walks (which includes picking up at least 25 bags of crap),

and did our best to show off his super cute and perfect-to-adopt abilities with the help of little shameless self-promotion.

Tonight, I dropped Frank off at another foster home, so I can take a mid-year trip to the big O. After Frank's aggressive, yet short-lived, attacks on the other two pugs that already live at the house, he seemed to settle into his new digs, happily stealing & chewing on pug #1's bone. As I drove away, I was looking forward to getting back to the house and packing and possibly salsa dancing and then... it happened.

I just spent most of my time over the last three weeks with him. I would leave parties early because I knew he would want to get out of his crate. I spent money on toys and leashes and treats to try to make sure he had things to play with and snack on and run with. I watched the Dog Whisperer and hired Nikki Ivey because I wanted to teach him how to behave so he could be the best dog he could possibly be... even within the short amount of time we'd be together.

But as a foster dog parent, I knew this was all temporary. The whole idea was that he stays with me until he gets adopted into his "forever home." With all of the traveling I do, being a full time adopter isn't the best option. My job was to simply take care of him and love him and wish him well when he finally found his new owner. I just didn't know it would feel this sad to say goodbye.

In past relationships, I care and I give and I listen and I love. But at some point, the relationship ends. And at the same time, coincidentally, the ex-lover will start to work on himself - perhaps somewhat influenced by me - or at least me leaving. Which means that now he is a much better suited partner for his next relationship. And not to say he wouldn't have gotten to this next level of enlightenment on his own, but who's to say that I didn't have a hand in (eventually) making him want to be a better person? (And this has happened multiple times, so I know it's not just some sort of fluke.)

I would like to end this blog saying this: At least I know I loved them the best that I knew how and at I wish them happiness in their "forever home." And someday, I will be the one that does the adopting and I can thank the former foster for getting their shit together for me.

But if I were being honest (which I try to be, even though it's hard to be so vulnerable most days), I would say this: I can't believe that just yet. I don't know if I will be able to offer the "forever home." I am a good temporary fix but who's to say I would ever be ready to adopt? Or maybe I won't find that perfect mutt for me? And if it keeps feeling like this every time I have to say goodbye, I'm wondering if it's really worth it?

At least for now, I know I get to see Frank one more time when I return. Which means it will probably hurt AGAIN when I say goodbye to him when he gets adopted. But to see this sweet face once more -- I have to believe it really is worth it.