she's back...

and it's only taken three months and a bit of a wander....

at the end of a long day

Over the course of the day, our Peach gave birth to 5 more babies.  Not one resembles her and we have no idea who the daddy was, so there was no telling what they might look like, later.  they went up for adoption at 8 weeks.  I took them to the shelter that saturday and at the end of the day, they were all spoken for.  but as these things go, one of the adoptions fell through and i am here now with the only remaining pup, Watson.  and what i'm learning is that one puppy in your house is a lot more challenging than six in the bin.  whatever that means.

they look like little piggies

Little Watson

Watty is a great little guy, button eyed and gentle.  He has an enormously endearing habit of hugging my neck when i pick him up, pressing his head against my cheek.  Holding him when i sit, he does a version of the same thing, climbing onto my shoulder, drifting off to sleep with his chin on the back of the chair.

Watty playing with his Aunt Cora

Now is when it gets tough.  Where the rubber meets the road, so to speak.  as i started this whole fostering thing, my intention was to help the most needy dogs find homes...plumping them up, getting them healthy, nurturing and socializing them so that they become more adoptable and that's worked out great except for the fact that it absolutely has ripped out a chunk of my heart each time i've had to let them go.  since May, i've cared for 21 dogs including three mama's and their pups, eventually saying snot faced, tearful goodbyes to all but the few who have stayed.  I couldn't let Maggie go.  She was the first dog i walked at the shelter and we'd bonded before i ever brought her home with her 8 babies.  I ended up adopting Corabelle, as well.  Scrawny and old looking, she has some ongoing issues that reduced her desirability in the wider world, though she has blossomed into a beauty, soft as a bunny and easy to manage until strangers show up.  And I'll keep Peach.  If you met her you'd understand.  She's one of those funny, happy little critters that you want to have around.

And now Watty....my daughter's voice got stern the other day after listening to me talk about him.  you could practically hear the hairs raising up on her arms.  Do NOT keep the puppy, she commanded.  You CANNOT keep the puppy.  then, at the vet last week, when someone asked if i was going to keep him, Dr. Mitch jumped in to answer for me, NO, she's not.  He said he didn't want to turn on the tele one day and see me on some show about animal hoarders.  That one made me cringe.  Even though he was laughing as he said it, i knew he was shining a light on an uncomfortable truth.

i'll admit here, in front of you and God and everybody, that i might be close to some tipping point where i could slide right over from helpful community servant to crazy old geezer.  it can eat up your life, caring for pets.  already, i can barely negotiate my way to the bed, for all the dog crates and squeaky toys.  already i spend the greater portion of my days feeding, walking, cleaning up after and shopping for the four leggeds.  it can eat up your life, yes.  but it can also fill an emptiness.   when the other markers of productivity and connection, like jobs and parenting and intimate relationships have fallen away, it can give purpose.  

but at what point does it become a pathology? at what point is it time to say whoa?  is moderation the answer?  oy.  that'll be a task.  i am so not moderate.