51 The Right Match
The Right Match
We started fostering dogs after losing three dogs in three years. We could not bring ourselves to commit to adopt another dog. The pain was too great. Our sole surviving dog lived in a custom dog room we built for five. It was a waste not to utilize the space. We heard about fostering dogs so we did some research and chose a few breeds that piqued our interest. We selected an easier breed; less dominant than the dogs we had previously nurtured. We completed applications and were thrilled to be accepted.
On New Year’s Eve, the hubby went to pick up the new guy (Emmitt) who was overly hyper for the confines of the shelter’s kennel. A home environment would resolve that issue. The shelter volunteers mentioned in passing that Emmitt had a reputation as an escape artist. They told my hubby, “Don’t worry, if you stay outside with him, I’m sure he won’t leave your yard.” Being novice Fosterers, we believed every word they said. Surely our six-foot chain link fence would contain him.
Our lone dog welcomed Emmitt completely. They became playmates. Previous obedience training was evident. He walked nicely on a leash, sniffing around trees; he even knew how to untangle himself. Emmitt was a gentle, sweet boy. We felt fortunate to have this boy as our first foster dog. We wrote a glowing description for the rescue website. Many pictures were taken of this handsome boy with his terrific personality shining through.
Ah, but just like a too confident Survivor contestant, we got blindsided. While sitting outside with the dogs, suddenly Emmitt disappeared over the fence. Once on the other side he ran into our next-door neighbor’s garage in search of trouble. We promptly recovered him. We told ourselves his up, up, and away trick was a fluke. We were fooled again.