Goodbye My Little Guys

I'm a bad foster mom. In fact, everyone agrees I'm a bad foster mom. I rank high on the list of "foster failures" in the pug rescue association to which I belong.
Four years ago, while out for a walk with Doug, we ran into a man and his son walking a pug puppy. I was so taken by the little guy that I knew immediately I was destined to have a pug. By the end of the day, we had our first pug, Sam. (Doug and I were still at a time in our relationship where he indulged my every whim.) I have since heard that it's difficult to have one pug . . .they're like eating Lay's potato chips . . .you can't just have one. I know that to be true.

I am writing this with six pugs around me. I guess it's like yarn . . . when you find something you love, you just have to keep a stash. I started my "pug stash" by joining Ohio Pug Rescue. Doug graciously agreed to allow our home to become a haven for these little souls until they can find their "forever" homes. The problem is that Jay and I become so attached that we have a very difficult time letting them move on. When one becomes attached and adopts their fosters, it is called a "foster failure". We've had two such failures.

I've see ads in knitting magazines about using your pet's hair to be spun into yarn. I've found with having six pugs around I don't need to have it spun into anything, it's just naturally there. Even as I write this, I have one on my lap and two on my shoulders, another by my side and two carefully watching my every move. I have learned lots of ways to remove pet hair from items . . .and I don't wear black unless I put it on and immediately leave the house. (You can now understand why I might pick certain colors when you see the similarity between the Jaegar Luxury Tweed and Buster.)




This morning, I take Buster and Keaton to their new "forever" home. (They've been with us for 10 months.) They were dropped off at a shelter in Cleveland had been quite neglected. They were very withdrawn in the beginning, with horrible ear infections and really bad teeth. I'm sure the pain they endured made it difficult for them to be warm and affectionate. After operations and medical treatment, they started to come out of their shells. I found that in nursing them and learning all their little piccadillo's I grew to love them more each day.

I kept hoping there wouldn't be anyone who would want two curmudgeonly older pugs as a package. I kept hoping that even though we wouldn't officially adopt them, they would become ours by default and I would not publicly add to the "foster failure" list. But the call came, and it's time to let them go. I keep hoping for the call that would tell me that the new perspective adopters have changed their minds . . .but it hasn't come.

As I drive home from dropping them off, I won't have my knitting to soothe me on the long drive back. I'll just have to stay with the pain of "failure" and shed my tears. I'll try to remind myself that there will be little pieces of them with me forever . . .woven into my heart. . .and a Luxury Tweed cable knit sweater.