The foster

After two months we finally found a family interested in our foster basset, Georgia. We've had a few previous bites from other people but each time they backed out either because they had time to think about their impulse or because they realized they didn't want a senior dog.

Well, we finally had a big bite from a young newlywed couple with no kids. They were specifically looking for a senior dog because they didn't want to worry with house breaking and a dog chewing up the house. My only concern was that they live in an apartment home complex (like town homes, each with its own little front and back porch and a grassy area outside the door) and I was afraid that Georgia's tendency to vocalize her loneliness would make things difficult for them since they both work full time during the day.

Regardless they were really excited to meet her and give it a shot. We dropped Georgia off at their home in beautiful Napa this past Saturday.

This is Georgia riding comfortable in the back of my parents car, on the way to her hopeful new home.

I got an email on Sunday letting me know that she had a great first night and weekend bonding with them. I knew they'd be hooked if they could just spend some time with her. But my biggest worry was the first week ahead.

I didn't hear anything until about noon today. A long email telling me that Georgia spent all of the first day in her crate crying while they were at work. A neighbor had come over to let them know (not complaining, just informing). They let Georgia have the living room yesterday and when she came home Georgia was quiet at least, but they haven't asked the neighbor yet if she cried all day again. This morning Georgia bolted out the door when they tried to leave for work and they had to chase her down. My guess is that she was making a mad dash to their car so as not to be left behind again.

Anyway, they've asked for an extension of their trial period, originally planned for a week. I've told them to take as much time as they need before making their final decision to adopt or not. I'm crossing every appendage I can that a sense of peace and comfort comes over Georgia and she settles into her new home.

She seems so happy with them. I want her to stay there. She'd be loved forever. They sent me these pictures and I'm hoping with everything I've got that it works out for everyone.

Any given Monday

A typical working Monday in our house, or any other weekday, may look a little something like this: me on the couch, laptop in use, dogs hanging out throughout the house. However, if said dogs could talk, a typical day would probably sound a bit like this:

"Hey." Lola places her head on the couch next to me while wagging her tail.

"Hey. Now go lie down, I'm working." I push her head away and point toward the bed.

"I need to go out. I'm pretty sure I need to."

"But you just went out not ten minutes ago."

"But this time I have to poop. I'm pretty sure I really need to poop."

"I told you to poop the last time you were out."

"But I didn't have to poop then. Now I do."

"Dog, if I let you out you better poop."

"I will. I promise."

I get up off the couch, which is no easy feat when another basset hound and a Great Dane are lying on my legs. My movement wakes Georgia up.

"Are you going to feed me?"

"No, Georgia." She settles back down.

I walk Lola out to the side yard so she can do her business. When she's done, I sit back down on the couch, laptop on my legs, wearing my glasses and my wrist braces, and get back to work on my current task.

2 minutes later, I hear a bell ring. It's the one attached to the door to the backyard. The one the dogs ring to tell me they need to go outside.

dingaling dingaling aling. 

I ignore it.

DINGALING A LING A LING DINGALING

Lucy stands by the door, one eye on me, ringing the bell with forceful deliberation.

"Lucy, lie down."

"But I have to go outside."

"Why didn't you go outside when I let Lola out?"

"I don't know. I wasn't feeling it."

"But you are now?"

"Yeah. Duh. I'm ringing the bell aren't I?"

"Fine." I sigh. "But you're staying out there for awhile."

"Whatever."

I get up, again, to open the back door for a dog, again. My movement wakes Georgia up, again.

"Are you going to feed me?"

"No, Georgia." She settles back down.

The door opens and Lucy runs straight up onto the hot tub and settles in for a nap in the sun. At least she'll be out there awhile. I sit back down on the couch and put my laptop back on my legs.

In the middle of an email ... RINAGALING A LING DINGALING A RING

"Lola, what the hell?"

"I wanna be on the hot tub too."

"Fine! But you're staying out there for awhile too." 

"Ok, just let me out. Please. Please. Let me out. Please."

"UGH!"

I get up, again. To open the door for a dog, again. My movement wakes Georgia up, again.

"Are you going to feed me?"

"No, Georgia!" She settles back down with a very heavy sigh.

Lola hops on the hot tub and settles down to sniff the air and stare at birds and critters in the back yard. Lucy basks in the 95º sun. I sit back down on the couch, laptop back on my legs, so I can finally finish the email I've been writing for the last five minutes.

But now I have to go to the bathroom.

It's amazing I get any work done.

Full disclosure

I'm just putting this out there ... I've been irritable lately. If you find yourself asking "wow, you Jaime? That's so unlike you," then you'll soon find me asking "what planet have you been on? Obviously not Earth."

So yeah. If you haven't noticed my grumpiness then you don't pay enough attention to me. I'm not saying you should change that, I'm just stating it as a fact.

For those that have noticed, please know that I am sorry. I may be PMSing, but I really wouldn't know since I haven't had a lady cycle since I had my Implanon implant inserted. I use the cycle of the moon as my new gauge. It's probably not that accurate, but I need something to blame it on.

The grumpiness is probably also stemming from being poor, paying car insurance on three cars, and having a foster dog that gets rejected from every potential home before she can make her sweet impression on them. It's so frustrating and isn't helping my emotional stress levels. I know her new home is out there. I just wish it would come along soon so that she can spend her last years happy and secure in her own place with her own people. Although I'm sure we're suitable stand-ins for the time being. At least she puts a smile on our faces. The 3rd car and feeble bank account don't really do much for us.

Nap time. Gotta try to sleep off the grump.

Temporary gal

Well, I got a wild hair and decided that now was the perfect time to bring in a foster dog. An email went out from the basset hound rescue we support saying that an emaciated senior stray basset was in need of a home and some TLC. My heart was bleeding and I knew we should help. Neil's been behind the idea from the beginning so it was just a matter of the right time and the appropriate dog coming together. The stars and planets aligned on Friday and Saturday morning we found ourselves carting home another basset hound.

She didn't have a name so we are calling her Georgia. She's incredibly sweet and very slow. Although her brain seems to be sharp as a tack. I am currently waiting to hear back from my vet about letting the rescue pay for her medical bills (apparently they have to set up an account with HR first?) So until that happens I am just working on feeding her and keeping her comfortable.

She's had a few accidents in the house because I'm afraid she has the same issue Lola did when we first got her: She doesn't know how to ask. She uses doggy doors just fine, but unfortunately we don't have one of those. We're in the process of teaching her to ring the bell like Lola and Lucy do, and she has a few times, but it's not a consistent practice yet.

I'm pretty sure either she was an only dog or she's just old and arthritic because she doesn't seem to have much energy for playing. But she does love her squeaker toys. And sleeping. And eating. She's been a really easy girl to please. My only fear is that she may be older than everyone is estimating (9 years) and that she'll be hard to adopt out. I am fully aware that some fosters can be with you for months before being adopted ... but I'm afraid she may be with us longer than that. Fingers crossed that quiet, special home comes along.

Miss Georgia: