8 lessons from my foster dog
On life, love, and just going for the damn walk.
Last week, I had to say goodbye to my first-ever foster dog.
When experienced fosters told me that saying goodbye would be gut-wrenchingly emotional, I sort of scoffed. After all, I’m what the rescue calls a “temp foster," meaning that I take care of the dog for a limited time before they’re sent to their “permanent foster” (where they’ll remain until they’re adopted).
So absolutely no bonding will happen in that time, right?
Wrong. A Trumpian (ew), capital-W “Wrong!”
A 10-pound chihuahua mix succeeded in stealing my heart, and seeing her come out of her shell over the course of two weeks was one of the sweetest things I’ve ever seen.
Little Elle (sung to the tune of Little L by Jamiroquai) taught me so many priceless lessons, and they totally deserve their own write-up.
So, without further ado, here are Elle’s 8 Lessons On Life:
1. The first few days of anything are the hardest.
Listen, I’m a 28 year-old, child-free woman with a 100% remote job—I’m not going to lie to you and say that getting up early for a walk, attending vet appointments an hour away, or picking up poop were easy-breezy activities, nor were they necessarily at the top of my list. This time in my life is certainly my ~selfish era~, and when I was considering signing up to foster, I was extremely nervous about disrupting my routine (or non-routine, depending on how you look at it).
The first few days were, indeed, very hard. The first night she cried and barked a ton. The next morning, I had to pry myself from bed to take her out. And throughout the day, I had to think of someone else’s needs in addition to my own.
If you’re an animal lover, adding a dog to your life may seem easy in theory, but in practice, it can be really difficult. Especially in the beginning. I worried I had totally messed up, and that I wouldn’t be able to give Elle the soft landing she deserved.
But as we got into our routine, I began to see the beauty in caring for another little soul—and the unexpected benefits it brought me.
I began prioritizing my sleep more, and getting up first thing got me in the right headspace to start my day (before I had the chance to scroll). I got rid of some shit in my apartment, because adding another living being to our space emphasized any extra clutter. And I paid more attention to how I was spending my time—because there was now someone who needed to pee approximately every three hours, and I had to be there for when that needed to happen.
2. Mornings are sacred.
I’ve always been a morning person, but I’ve admittedly been slacking on prioritizing that part of my day. Staying warm in bed is especially enticing in the winter months, and my phone is all too tempting to scroll on from the comfort of it.
With Elle’s arrival, I was wrenched back into morning-person activities, whether I liked it or not.
After her AM pee walk and breakfast, it was time for Elle’s first nap of many. Elle was heartworm positive, so it was imperative we kept her as calm and relaxed as possible. This proved not to be an issue whatsoever—homegirl loved a nap. In fact, I’m pretty sure she averaged 18 hours a day unconscious. All the more snuggles for me, then!
Nap #1 of our days together entailed a cuddle on the couch while I read a book or caught up on emails. The world was quiet, Atlanta wasn’t awry with it’s usual traffic just yet, and I got to listen to puppy snores to start my day. A win in my book, and a practice I’m trying to keep up with—even without a dog.
3. If you’re not feeling it, just say no.
It was also important that we socialized Elle, but again, we needed to do so in a way that wouldn’t get her too riled up (remember, heartworms).
I decided a great outing would be to a nearby, dog-friendly bar. When we got there, there were a lot of other four-legged friends hanging out, and even though Elle adores her fellow pups, she gets pretty scared when they’re excited—or way bigger than her.
We met some new friends who respected Elle’s space and size, but there were two dogs of the doodle variety who were quite rambunctious—and almost trampled Elle. I scooped her up quickly, and luckily, we avoided that fate.
Later, said doodles’ owner came over to our table and asked if they could sit on the opposite side of us (we were seated at a couch and a couple chairs surrounding a place to put our drinks). I said yes—but only if her dogs could stay calm around Elle. She replied, “It’s okay if it’s too much for her.” I appreciated her honesty. I took her up on the offer, saying “Yeah, you know what, I think it’s a bad idea.”
I often forget to stick up for myself, but when it came to Elle—who doesn’t have a voice—I had no problem. It was a reminder that I can always do the same for myself, no matter the situation.
4. When in doubt, take a walk.
I came to cherish our every-three-hour excursions outside, even if they were just around the corner and back. Winter in Atlanta can be rainy and gross, but again, I didn’t have the option of not going outside. It had to happen, so I decided I might as well enjoy it.
Seeing the joy Elle got from being able to sniff as long as she wanted was the best, too. Soon, I even found myself meticulously keeping track of her bathroom habits. Not to mention, meeting other dogs and neighbors I never would have previously was an added bonus.
5. Stains happen. Life goes on.
I’m also a (read: self-aware) control freak, and when thinking about fostering, the thought of dog hair on my beloved vintage furniture or a potty accident indoors were sending me in a tizzy before I even signed my name on the dotted line.
Reader, she did, in fact, pee on my grandfather’s vintage, very valuable rug. Twice. Insert eye twitch here. But guess what? I survived (and the stain came out!).
I realized that my belongings are not going to stay perfect forever, assuming I someday get a dog of my own—or even spill something myself, because mistakes happen, too.
Ripping the band-aid off now was, surprisingly, relieving. A little mess here or there forced me to relax and not obsess over the small stuff.
6. Patience is an act of love.
I grew up with an absolute goober of a chocolate lab. My mom loves to tell the following story: In my childhood home, a repairman dressed in all black came to fix one of our broken window panes. While the repair was happening from the outside, Harry patiently wagged his tail from the inside, waiting for this delightful stranger (who looked like a cartoon burglar) to come pay him a visit. Everyone was his friend, and sometimes to a fault.
I naively thought that as soon as I picked Elle up from the shelter, she’d run into my arms, give me kisses, and be so pumped to snuggle. This was not the case. The poor thing was absolutely traumatized from her time there and however long she was outdoors as a stray. This meant that we had to earn trust with one another. I had to set aside my selfish reasons for fostering (puppy cuddles and playtime, duh!) and prioritize her needs and space.
Her progress was slow, but steady. By the end of day one, she ventured onto the couch. By day three, she showed me her belly for the first time. By day seven, she was wagging her tail when I’d go to get her out of her crate. And by day 10, she was nuzzling into me on the couch, gladly accepting a full massage.
When Elle did finally seek affection herself, it was that much sweeter.
7. (Most) people are inherently kind.
Another thing I was nervous about when I signed up to foster were any disturbances an anxious dog might cause my neighbors. I live in an apartment, and my partner is a professional musician—so we were already probably pushing our luck in the noise department (although our neighbors all rave about my boyfriend’s playing—thank goodness).
When Elle arrived, I put a sign up in our building entryway to let everyone know we were fostering, and that if she was ever disturbing them, to text me.
Granted, Elle wasn’t super loud, but I was pleasantly surprised by how much our neighbors were welcoming and sweet to her. When we ran into them, they’d excitingly ask “Is this Elle?!” and want to know how she was doing. One neighbor even offered to let her out if we ever needed her to. It was so kind.
We’re constantly bombarded with media that tells us not to trust our literal and figurative neighbors. These thoughtful gestures reminded me that most people in the world are good and understanding.
8. If you love something, let it go.
If you told me at the beginning of Elle’s stay that I’d be sobbing when we had to say goodbye, I would have never believed you. I went from counting down the days to getting my schedule-less life back to absolutely dreading her drop-off date.
The day before she left, I let myself consider foster failing. At 13 days in, Elle was totally bonded to me. She loved when I held her, and would come to me when she was nervous or scared. The thought of sending her off to another home seemed cruel. What if she’s confused? What if she’s afraid? What if she thinks I abandoned her? What if no one truly “gets” her like I do? These thoughts ran through my mind on a loop.
But deep down, I knew that adopting Elle wouldn’t be what was best for her. In our time together, it was abundantly clear that she needed to be in a home with another dog. Every time we saw another dog on a walk, she absolutely lit up. Even as a stray, she was found with another pup. Giving Elle a friend is what would make her happiest, and I couldn’t provide that. I had to set aside my own personal feelings and make the decision that was best for her.
And I knew that if I truly loved Elle, caring for her in this moment would be doing the thing that was hardest—letting her go.
A (very) happy ending.
At her next foster home, Elle was set to be reunited with the other stray dog she was found with. I was very excited to see this reunion, because it would tell me if she and this dog were truly bonded (or if this dog just happened to be a stray in the same place and at the same time).
When we went to drop her off, Elle was nervous—but when Ashira, her long-haired chihuahua-mix friend, came out, Elle gave her a whole bunch of kisses—which I’d literally never seen her do. And just a few minutes later, she was absolutely scrambling out of my arms to go play with her.
As we drove away, I felt a sense of pride that I hadn’t allowed my emotions to make the wrong decision for Elle.
Over the next few days, I received a number of texts from Elle’s permanent foster mom—filled with videos and photos of the two of them together. It was so clear that Elle was absolutely thriving now that she was back together with her friend.
Now, they’re being listed as a bonded pair with the aim of being adopted together. How’s that for happily ever after?
