Confessions of a First Time Foster

My, yesterday was anything but dull and uninteresting.

We got Angel back from the groomers. I honestly had thought she was an “apricot” colored bichon, because she was almond-colored all over.

Not any more. Turns out, that was dirt.

And she may well have lost half a pound. The groomer had to shave her, of course. I’m grateful she was able to spare Angel’s ears and tail — the parts of a bichon that are supposed to be especially long and fluffy. Angel obviously got shaved all over last November, so she isn’t any competition for Paris in the fluff department, but that’s still 6 months of growth they were able to save.

After we got back from the groomer we were late for our D&D game, so we had an action plan all worked out of “this dog & crate go here, that dog & crate go there, the third one gets collared for the car….” Somehow we ended up with a big pile of dogs outside the back door, one of whom had absolutely no leash. Luckily, that was Paris and luckily, no squirrels taunted her into chase. Okay, the first wasn’t really luck; Cognac and Angel always trail leashes at this point.

Anyway, we did get everyone sorted out and got going. When we got home again after a long D&D game, Papa took Angel out for a walk. Did I mention that she got shaved? Did I explain that that took her neck from something like 4″ in diameter down to less than 2″? Did I tell you that we’d gone out and bought a larger collar because she had a sore where the original collar had been galling her? I know I forgot to mention the part about picking her up at the groomer’s and resizing that collar down to its smallest setting, and still being able to stick four fingers under it. Well, she slipped right out of that collar.

I was oblivious for a time reading email, until Papa called for help. I quickly found out that a shaved dog is downright slippery, and that a dog who is shying away from us not just to keep the fun going but because she is scared is terribly effective at keeping out of reach. I thought to use the shying away thing to herd her toward the house, and discovered that I don’t make a good collie. And through it all Cognac was running around with zero interest in getting away for himself and a ton of altruistic interest in Angel’s well-being. We may be lucky in living next door to backyard breeders. It may be the fact that a stud had marked all over that yard was all that kept her nearby.

Fortunately, I finally blurted out something like “Don’t you want your dinner?” “Dinner” proved to be the magic word; Angel made a beeline for the back door. Unfortunately, Papa had picked that moment to close the door while he took Cognac inside.

I’m afraid when he came back I swore at him.

I tried calling out “dinner” again, but Angel was shying away now. I honestly don’t know how I closed with her and pounced, but I managed to pin her to the driveway. I hope I didn’t hurt her; I certainly surprised and scared her into a yelp.

We have a much more vivid picture of rescue now!