When you have to break the bond with your foster dog

[TribalRats]

When you have to break the bond with your foster dog
Maryanne Dell

Pets columnist
The Orange County Register


Being a foster parent is hard work.

Taking on a living being that someone else has discarded brings a burden of care of a special kind.

This dog I've brought into my house isn't mine. While her well-being is in my hands, I can only mold her so much, because, ultimately, she will move from my home into someone else's.

Still, I owe her the same level of care I give my own dogs. She deserves the good food, the soft bed, the medical care, and the training that my other dogs get.

My dogs form a nice little pack. They get along with one another; while there's occasional squabbling over toys or position in the kitchen when I'm handing out treats, overall they're comfortable around one another.

Add a new dog to the mix, and things get a little complicated.

Dogs don't deal with change all that well – they're like people in that respect. They like constancy; they want things to be the same day in, day out.

Mine are no exception, and I have to respect that.

So, when I add a foster pup to the mix, I tend to keep the new dog physically separate from the pack.

That separateness lets my dogs know that this dog is different. She's fed, treated and sometimes even pottied apart from the others. If I don't try to fold her into the pack, my dogs don't feel like they have to welcome her into their lives with open paws.

For the most part, my furry kids take new visitors in stride. As long as they continue to get fed, the treats keep coming, Fly still goes to agility class each week and Jitterbug continues to visit hospitals and other facilities – as long as all those things that make their lives normal remain normal – life is good.

It's often better – read easier – for them than for me.

My job is to provide not just shelter, but also growth. Often, a foster dog has greater needs than my dogs.

Foster dogs frequently come with baggage: fear of certain things or certain types of people, a lack of experience with grooming, discomfort with being on a leash or in a car. Baggage requires me to work to overcome it, to turn the suitcase from a 26-incher into a small carry-on, if I can.

The foster dog in my house might have been an outdoor dog; she had that emptiness, that lack of a personality that dogs who live outdoors often have, when she entered my life.

Often, the only connection such dogs have with people is when someone dumps some food into their dirty bowl every now and then. Their lack of exposure to different kinds of people at key points in their lives often makes these dogs nervous Nellies.

Fortunately, living in a home with people who treat them kindly and give them lots of good stuff (chicken! cheese! liver!) can help nervous Nellies calm down. Sometimes the transformation from a dog who isn't sure of anything to one who's comfortable in her own skin can be relatively painless, happening almost without effort in the space of a week or two.

Sometimes, it takes work.

The work is where fostering gets hard.

Not because it's such hard work. Feeding by hand goes a long way toward establishing trust. So do several short sessions each day of brushing or leash walking paired with yummy treats.

That's not such hard stuff. Keep at it, be consistent, and you can easily, and relatively quickly, make a great deal of progress.

But that progress comes with a price.

The price is connection, and that's what makes fostering so hard.

The little dog in my house is a bit of a nervous Nelly. She very likely had little loving contact with people before landing in my lap. But she's sweet as they come, cute as a button, and primed to become a primo companion for someone.

The thing is, if I spend 15 minutes a day on all that stuff I've just described, I won't be able to give her up. I'm already finding myself wishing I could keep her.

I know I can't. She needs a home of her own, with someone who can lavish her with love, time and attention, someone who will allow her to blossom and grow and turn into the lovely little dog she will be.

I am but a conduit for this dog.

The last time I did this – or tried to do it – I failed, and a little Tibetan spaniel named Jitterbug joined my pack.

I can't fail again, so I have had to hold this little girl at arm's length. It's the only way to ensure that I don't fall in love, to make certain that, when her new home unveils itself, I can turn her over without falling apart.

That's what makes fostering the hardest work I've ever done.

[Ritz459]

While I've never fostered a shelter dog, I have been a puppy raiser, and I did fall apart. It is so rewarding, but once you've worked with that dog, named the dog, lived with the dog, it is extreamly hard to let them go. I bawled my eyes out when we left Sadie in Michigan, and I have her collar and dog tags hanging on my bed. I still miss the little bugger but I know that one day she is going to make someone extreamly happy and if she gives them the fraction of the joy she gave us, she'll be a wonderful dog.

[TribalRats]

I hear ya ritz.
We are fostering those three puppies right now and we did a home visit last night for a wonderful retired couple but man it is going to break my heart when the pups leave us.

[PitBullie09]

Oh yes, i know how that feels. I had to let go of Honey yesterday.. I've had her for months, i miss her so much.

[Sheltiemama]

It always does take a chunk of your heart out to hand them over to their forever home.
But just remember the kind of start you were able to give them on their road to happiness with their forever parents.
I have fostered dogs and I know the pain/pride one feels when those dogs leave your care for anothers. Be proud of what you do. These dogs deserve everything we can give them to assure that they will be happy for the rest of their lives, even if the cost is part of our heart.