A Silver Lining
“A friend is a gift you give yourself.”
― Robert Louis Stevenson
I haven’t owned a dog for 16 years. My lifestyle is not conducive for pet ownership.
However, last spring when the COVID stay at home order was implemented and I found myself alone, at home, every day, I decided to be a foster mom for dogs in crisis.
My first roommate was absolutely adorable. She was rescued from a shelter in Mexico. She was going to be killed because she was ill. The guy handed her to me out the window of his car, “Here, she doesn’t have a name.”
She arrived at my doorstep like a true immigrant. With nothing.
I named her Mia. I was tempted to keep her. However, I still had a slim hope of summer travel back to Maui, and didn’t know what I would do with her while I was away. In fact, every time I left my home for the grocery store she made a horrible ruckus. My next door neighbor texted me to “shut her up.” Abandonment issues.
The semi-reclusive neighbor across the street decided to adopt her.
Mia hit the jackpot. She eats salmon and rice. She sleeps on a heating pad all day. She is a diva. Living the “American Dream” … a long way from the mean streets of Nogales. And, I’m able to see her often.
Bats was an 11 year old dachshund. Given up for adoption in a divorce dispute. The poor guy was very depressed. He slept a lot. I met an elderly gentleman at my chiropractor’s office who had just lost his dog and was interested in getting an older dog. I told him about Bats, and he adopted him. Bats was only with me for three weeks. I like to imagine the two old dudes snuggled in a recliner, sharing a beer, watching NASCAR reruns. I thought his name was ironic. The rumor at the time was that the entire pandemic mess began with a bat.
Before Christmas I was asked to take in Leo. His foster mom needed to leave town for two weeks. He has been with me for seven weeks.
He is up for adoption, however, he requires a “special” person.
He hates men. The adoptive person must be female, single, no children, no grandchildren, no neighbors, no friends, no sudden movements, no loud noises. I like to say he’s “grumpy.”
The vet recommended I should try Prozac.
“I’d love to try some Prozac!”.
“Not for you … Leo needs to take it.” Who knew that dogs are part of the national trend toward pharmacology?
It’s too soon to tell if he is less anxious. He is still unpredictable.
The fourth groomer (the only one not to get nipped) recommended a doggie psychic to discover why he is so fearful. I think I’ll wait to see if the Prozac kicks in.
Anyway, being a foster mom to three dogs in emergency situations has been a silver lining in the pandemic. The little darlings have enriched my life and kept me company throughout a prolonged time of home bound uncertainty.
