Well, people, it happened. Word came out two Fridays ago that a batch of puppies were coming from a WV shelter and fosters were needed asap for a Saturday evening pick-up.
Having been without a foster dog since we adopted out Rooney just before Christmas, we jumped in and offered to help.
The chaos of unloading a big van full of scared, dirty, over-excited puppies was amazing. As the dust settled, we noted the puppies that did not have fosters assigned yet. We opted for “whatever” puppy needed us.
Here you go, the adoption coordinator said..
…And just like that we had a 10-week old nervous puppy in our arms.
“Her name is Petunia,” she said, “Here’s her file.”
Petunia is one of the nicknames my grandma called me when I was a kid. Having lost my grandma two years ago, it tugged my heart strings. Maybe it was a sign that my grandma is still around, in one way or another.
So, Petunia set out to turn our lives upside down within 24 hours. She’s friendly, and fairly outgoing, and obviously not house broken. She has to wee every 45 minutes!
She’s also super cute. I mean, a special kind of cuteness. I describe it as ninja-princess cuteness.
Harvey, our 2 ½ year old Doberman, was not as quickly smitten. She won him over eventually by insisting on running, jumping and chewing all over him while he tried to nap. She’s not afraid of his MMA-style matches, and is always ready to jump back in the ring if she gets knocked down.
Of course this means my husband and I are playing Referee about 16 hours a day. Harvey has experimented with grabbing her by the face and dragging her out from under the coffee table where she plans sneak attacks on him. As terrible as it sounds, he must be pretty gentle about it because she never squeals, and always fights back 200%. We still give Harvey (and Petunia) instructions on appropriate playing, and they’re improving daily.
So, after just one day with Petunia, we had an adoption application popping up for her.
“Uh oh,” I thought. Secretly, I was already thinking in the words of my 2-year old niece, “MINE.”
So for all my best intentions in fostering, and blogging about it, I fell in love. My husband tried to reiterate the same reasons we used to moderate our emotions when Rooney was leaving us. I could tell he wasn’t believing his own argument this time, and certainly my heart & mind was made up.
We directed the adopter to one of Petunia’s siblings, and alerted our adoption coordinator that we were committing to adopt Petunia. While we were at it, we decided we needed a name that was a bit more conducive for calling out, and decided on Clementine Petunia. “Clemmy” for short.
We now have reached our maximum household population for permanent pets: kitties Roger and Margene; and pups Harvey Wallbanger and Clementine Petunia.
When Clemmy gets a little older and has her second round of shots, we’ll pick up fostering again.
Alyssa works in multiple MOMs locations.