Sunday was a pretty tough day for me, as I had to let my sweet little foster doggy Misty go. Even though I was just her foster mom, I had really grown quite attached to her. The thing is, I never expected anyone to adopt her. I mean she’s 9 years old, she’s a little rough around the edges (has a history of aggression when living with other animals), and she is far from winning any beauty pageants.


What she lacks in the glamor department she makes up for in plenty of other ways. Hours of her companionship and love, her excitement when I got home, her sheepishness when she got into the trash (which wasn’t often enough to get too mad about), and her jumping high enough to sneeze into my mouth one time (yes, that happened) all contributed to me totally falling in love with her. I got her when I bought my house 7 months ago, and she really helped me transition into living there by myself.   In return, I kept her out of a kennel for 7 months. She really felt like my dog, but I am hoping and praying that her new family will love her just as much as I did and that she’ll love them back.

The goal was for her to be adopted into a forever home, so this is very bittersweet. Maybe with an extra dash of bitter.

Here we are on our last day together (don’t mind my swollen red eyes).

She's trying to lick me!

Rockin' girl with a mowhawk



Even though I hate this picture of me, I had to put it up because she's so adorable.

She looks like a walrus or something in this one

Just keepin cool

I love you, happy girl

I never saw myself as a real “animal person”. Yeah I’ve always liked them, but I’m not one to put doggy wallpaper up or anything. But through this experience I have learned a few things, and one of them is that I am more of an animal lover than I thought I was, and I believe everyone has the potential to be an animal lover as well so watch out! Another is that I probably won’t foster a dog again, because it’s too hard to part with them.

If you are wondering why I didn’t just adopt Misty, the simple answer is that by the time I realized how much I really loved her, her new family was already very excited to have her and I didn’t think it was right for me to suddenly change my mind just because someone else wanted her (although it was very tempting). Also, I am happy that I served my purpose of getting this indescribably wonderful dog out of a boarding facility for 7 months, and I am excited to help another dog in the future after I have grieved this one.

Today when I got home, it was every bit as hard as I had worried it would be, and I must admit that I’m sitting here barely able to read the screen through the tears. I feel like a major boob for crying so much about it, but everything I look at reminds me of her. Even her wiry hair that’s still on the couch, the surviving bits of her toys in the yard that I caught a glimpse of, the yard itself… I guess at this point all I can do is trust that I made the best decision for her and try to move on myself. Shit, this is hard though.

Thanks for reading.