I walked to our backyard this morning and was greeted with a heavy silence; a reminder that our foster
puppies were gone, most likely scared and alone, and I'm scared for them.
I couldn't help but ugly cry all Monday night and Tuesday (yesterday) morning leading up to their surrender
appointment. I could hardly enjoy my time with them Tuesday morning because every time I saw them my heart
broke. Here's the full story:
In June, my brother had rescued a pregnant dog, a beautiful mutt of unknown origins traveling the vast
expanse of his job's parking lot alone. He took in the expecting mother, cared for her diligently, and
helped her give birth to a litter of eleven blind, wriggly, freeloading roommates with beautiful souls and
the potential to light up some lucky human's world. This was the beginning.
For two months, he somehow managed to not kick every puppy to the curb in utter frustration (lucky them).
Their sweetness must have prevailed, which is an excellent example of a separate species bio-hacking humans.
"Awe, they're so cute! I wanna keep it forever." It's all designed, and we love it like a sweet tooth. It
was at this point that it was time to start saying goodbye to his pseudo-children, a bittersweet reality
that I would soon come to know. He managed to face this challenge of relinquishing responsibility eight
times over the period of about a month. It was at this point that he had reached the end of his capacity to
care for the three puppies that had not been adopted.
A week ago we talked, and he described his situation. He had a surrender appointment with an animal shelter,
but unfortunately it had been pushed back a week. Being at his limit, we decided that I would take the pups
until then, leaving me with the pups from Wednesday through Tuesday (yesterday). My journey with the pups
lasted only six days.
Wednesday
As prepped as I could be, we greeted the dogs when my brother brought them into town. He opened the trunk of
his car to reveal a single, large travel kennel. It was dark, so I couldn't see what was inside, but I heard
scurrying and smelled a mess had happened in the kennel. We took the kennel and opened it in the backyard,
and
out popped three sopping wet puppies that smelled like puke and possibly pee. Over the course of an
hour-and-a-half
car
ride, one or more had managed to puke up water and possibly (probably) pee all over their siblings.
One thing I noticed was that the dogs were massive for their age, or at least bigger than most dogs I had
seen at three months. They each looked like they weighed around twenty or so pounds, and their paws were
huge.
As they walked around the backyard, instead of running, they started to hop and jump on top of each other.
Before I really even took note of this behavior, my brother said: "They're hopping around because that's all
they really know how to do." They didn't have the space to allow for the pups to really stretch their legs,
so this was their first time being able to run, so they didn't know how.
When it was time to put them down for the night, I had them set up in our kitchen, all three sleeping in the
same kennel because that's what they were used to. I can't remember the exact details due to the exhaustion
of the night, but it was the type of hell only puppies can deliver. I raised my own dogs from two months
old, but it was nothing like this. I was way out of practice and out of my depth to be dealing with three
puppies
who were only in the beginning
stages of being house-trained and had just entered a new environment with strangers after being dropped off
by the only people they'd ever known. I do remember being up with them basically all night and cleaning up
pee on a few separate occasions into the wee hours of the morning. It was a serious adjustment period for
all four of us, but only three of us were screaming into the night and peeing on themselves. I was mature
enough to scream internally.
Thursday, Friday
Thursday and Friday blended together, a montage of cuteness juxtaposed with chaos: cuteness abound, pee
splatters everywhere, the soft yipping of puppies sleeping, resource guarding a piece of trash, romping in
the backyard, and potty breaks every three and a half hours throughout the night, only to still find pee in
the kennel even after rationing their water for the night (one had hopped over the playpen to steal the
adult dog's water). Whenever we tried to take them outside, they'd pee on the way there. In an attempt to
move them closer to the door, we put their kennel in our living room. After one of the puppies peed in the
kennel in the living room, the other dogs had sat in it and whipped it all around the room with their tails.
We had to find a solution.
It was on Friday afternoon that we put their kennel on our patio with a box fan and covering over the kennel
to help them feel protected. After a long romp in the backyard, it didn't take long to hear the soft yipping
of puppies napping, feeling the breeze of the box fan and the sweet smell of summer coming to an end.
Saturday, Sunday
The hard days were over, and the puppies were settling in. Our new routine was easier on the puppies (less
carrying them to and fro, easier access to potty in the grass straight from their kennel, and an overall
better atmosphere than the playpens and inside kennels). It was better for me, too. This was the first time
I was actually able to enjoy having puppies in the house. It felt like I was getting to know them better,
and they were getting to know me. They weren't drinking water like they'd never see it again, and they
weren't resource guarding their food. The house was becoming familiar to them, and they weren't scared. They
were comfortable, and that's when I knew this wasn't going to be easy.
Though we were definitely approaching synergy, it still wasn't all rainbows yet. My dogs, while fascinated
with the puppies, were simply too overstimulated to actually play with the puppies. The puppies would come
say hello, and my dogs wouldn't really know how to act. It was very clear that their brains were running a
mile a minute, and they would just kind of sniff and walk away. Also, there was the drool. For those
who don't know, when certain dogs are overstimulated or overinterested in something they will drool. One
of my dogs had been drooling since Wednesday, and it hadn't stopped since. Obviously, it wasn't a medical
concern because she would only drool around the pups. We still hadn't reached a point of harmony, but I was
starting to feel a deep sense of responsibility for these puppies. Also by this point, in a beautiful
display of progress, they had learned to run.
Monday, Tuesday
These days were the days I cried. It started Monday afternoon or evening. At this point I was faced with the
harsh reality that in order for these pups to find their forever home, to find the people who would make
them the center of their world, something I simply couldn't offer them, I had to send them to an animal
shelter. I felt like I was abandoning them, and it is hard to relive these feelings as I explore them now.
Here are some of the beautiful moments I remember from Monday and Tuesday before surrendering the puppies to
the shelter:
The babies carrying around the water bowl like a trophy through the backyard.
Stealing the Crocs I wore in the backyard after I took them off to go inside to get them more
food.
Watching them run for the first time after my dogs showed them how to play.
Cuddling in their kennel, when I knew they'd be separated on Tuesday.
Exploring the bushes in our backyard and fighting the smooth vines as they trapped their little
legs.
Cuddling on the cool concrete slab of our porch after exhausting themselves chasing bugs in the
grass.
Throwing their slow feeder to get the last bits of kibble they couldn't reach.
Going the entire night Monday through Tuesday morning not peeing in their kennels.
Finally being accepted by my dogs. On the last day, they play-bowed to the puppies, and my dog
stopped drooling. They played till the last minute, at which point I had to take them to the shelter.
It was 11:40 pm when I had to load them up.
I will never forget these puppies, and I can't help but (ugly) cry more as I remember these
beautiful moments that I hope to never forget. I want nothing but the best for these brave travelers,
and I hope they get everything in life they deserve. I love you Jewel, Gabby, and Denise, and I thank my
brother for trusting me to get them to the next stage in their lives.
