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I’m a Failed Foster Dog Guardian, and I Couldn’t Be Happier
There’s something bittersweet about life with a new dog after losing my old boy
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
I promised myself I wouldn’t get attached. There was to be no merging of hearts here. More fool me really, because I was never not going to allow the soul of a K9 in need to melt into my being and lodge itself in my spirit.
So here we are. I’ve failed.
Within a couple of hours of being asked to foster him, I had this bundle of nervous energy in my home. After a few days of fostering him, my husband turned to me and said, “So, we’re keeping him, right?”
And I guess that was that.
But this wasn’t supposed to happen. It’s bad timing. He’s not exactly what I would have chosen. And if I were to try and pick fault with him, all I can say is that he’s not perfect.
But show me someone who is perfect, and I’ll show you a liar.
Perhaps my biggest resistance is from my grieving heart. Is it too soon? We had to say goodbye to our 13-year-old dog, Zaccy Bear, in February.