Confessions of a First Time Foster

I know I’ve left things out of my blog, like how Angel now can go both ways on stairs and jump up and down off the couch. Sometime in the past day or so, Cognac seems to have totally given up trying for sex, much to my relief. And his, no doubt. Plus the other night Angel ate basically all of her dinner from Papa’s hand for the first time. (OTOH, when she was tied to his belt for half an hour while he worked on the computer, she spent the whole time running restlessly at the full extent of her leash — she still hasn’t gotten over her fear of him.) Very early on Angel found her voice — she and Cognac both arrived mute from shock. Now whenever she hears a noise that worries her (and very few don’t), she leads the pack in belling out the alarm. Recently Papa groomed Angel for the first time — probably the first simple combing (as opposed to professional shave) she’s ever been given. Yesterday morning she picked up a toy. (And while I’m mentioning milestones, this morning she gave my nose a little lick.)

These are all such little, seemingly unimportant details, but so satisfying to watch. I’m very glad that we were there for Cognac when he needed us, and that we have been able to teach him some basic obedience and help figure out what’s going on with him and what he needs. What I’m trying to say is that fostering Cognac has indeed been satisfying. But with Angel, every day has seen an unfolding of her spirit. She’s coming out of her caged self before our very eyes. And we know that we’re the ones who are giving her the liberty and security and affection that are the roots of her blossoming. I haven’t been this happy with a decision since we decided to bring Paris into our family. Even if having three dogs at once has utterly exhausted us!