Confessions of a First Time Foster

Finally, the rain’s let up. The sun is shining and it’s nice and warm. The cornfield’s dry so I can open the windows, and it’s a great day for doggies to spend time outside.

Brother and Sister are happy to just stretch out on the driveway and let the sun warm their fur. Occasionally they jump up, tussle for fun, glance our way and then stretch out again. They’re still trying hard to ignore the puppy, but after seeing him through his reaction the other night, they’re showing signs that they might consider associating with him, on a trial basis, possibly, maybe.

Jackson and I wander around, and he pauses quite often to just take in the sights and smells. Suddenly, he stops.

Something has his rapt attention. At first I can’t tell what; I don’t see anything. Now he’s sitting, tilting his head from side to side. I see the object of his fascination — one of those little yellow butterflies, a few inches away from him. I was looking too far. I wasn’t appreciating the day on his level. It’s a reminder to simplify.

It’s also a realization. Jackson is mesmerized by the butterfly because he’s never seen one before. He’s only a few months old. His earliest memories are probably of the cage in the pet store…then the very brief time with his original owners…and now here. He probably hasn’t even seen a bunny or a squirrel, and he’s chewing on the different kinds of grass because he doesn’t know how they taste.

It’s all discovery.

It really makes you think.

But was he fascinated enough with being outside to poop there? No. So much for waxing philosophical.