Our foster dog goes to be with his forever home today.
We’ve had this dog since May. I’d begun to think we were going to have him forever.
A couple weeks ago I resolved that I’d just have to think of him as our dog. Last Saturday Brooke got an email from the rescue people. Someone wanted to adopt him.
Now I know the trick. Maybe.
We have to take him to meet his new family in Albany. That’s a three hour drive. If its love at first sight, we come home dogless. If not, we drive the three hours back home with the dog. At that point he really will be our dog. Not technically. He’s still the rescue’s dog. But it took nine months for anyone to show any interest in him.
Two reasons why its taken so long come to mind.
- He’s a black dog. Black dogs take longer to adopt. There’s plenty of information on so-called black dog syndrome. More recent studies say its a myth that people adopt fewer black animals, but admit that because black pets are more common than other colors, there’s a glut of black pets on the market. Either way, black dog.
- His name is Yogi. On the rescue’s web site, you have to page through 4 pages of other dogs before you get to Yogi at the end of the alphabet. By then, people have already fallen in love with another dog’s picture.
Anyway, it appears that Yogi is no longer available for adoption. But There are plenty more at bigfluffydogs.com.
It didn’t work out. Not today.
Nice couple, but they seemed to have the mutual realization dawn on them that they weren’t quite in a position to adopt a dog. Landlord not really in favor without ironclad assurances that there will never be an “accident.” Neighbor’s cat wanders through back yard (which it would only do once). Fears of the dog having separation anxiety during 8-hour days at work (which is not an issue with Yogi, but in spite of reassurances…).
Better they back out now, though, than end up with a dog they can’t take care of. It’s all good.