You’d Think I Woudn’t Do It Again So Soon

But I did. I failed to consult my organizer to check if there’s any important shit I was supposed to be reminded of. On May 20th of 2005, I started suffering from a severe chronic pain on my backside; the kind of pain that you get used to and you even miss it when you don’t suffer from it and you wish you never have to part from the pain as long as you live. The pain named Foster. Yes, 5/20 was Foster’s Gotcha day. I flew down to Newport News airport, VA, rented an SUV, drove to Baja-Ma‘s house to pick him up, and drove back up to NY. And Foster has been the royal pain in my fat ass ever since.

Photo taken by PrincessGinger

Foster was abandoned by his owners – bastards! – who moved out and left him in the yard to fend for himself when he was only about 2 months old. A kind man noticed a poor skinny pup without food or water, so he took him, named him Foster, and contacted his friend PrincessGinger. She fostered him for about 6 months while trying to adopt him out to a good home without success. Having born with the fate of a big black dog, people who showed any interest in him were people who wanted to leave him outside as a guard dog and such. Then PrincessGinger’s landlord wanted Foster out. I agreed to take over the search for the right family but I couldn’t go get him myself and PrincessGinger couldn’t get him to me either so Foster had to be boarded. Then Baja-Ma who lives at about halfway point between me and PrincessGinger stepped in to foster him. So one day PrincessGinger and her BF drove Foster up and dropped him off at Baja-Ma’s house.

Photo taken by PrincessGinger

Unfortunately, Baja-Ma’s resident Beagle Jade was not keen on having to share her humans and didn’t like her domain invaded by a rambunctious puppy full of energy and it was disrupting an otherwise peaceful home – read people lost sleep. I rushed to make plans to go get him and 10 days later, I met Baja-Ma at her house, who, by the way, didn’t look too happy to see me at all and didn’t feel the need to fake happiness either – she later gave me a lame excuse like I woke her up or something, yeah, uh huh. I loaded Foster up and headed home.

On our way home, we stopped at G’s house in Onancock, VA. Now People! The stress is on the second syllable, and there are TWO n’s in Onancock! DO NOT DROP THE SECOND N!!! I knew G through Petfinder message board, and she so desperately wanted to help me by doing some of the driving so that I didn’t have to drive too much, in which case I would have completely missed the pleasure of meeting Baja-Ma and seeing her jump up and down with happiness for finally getting to meet me. But G’s location made it difficult for her to help me, so I stopped by for lunch and had a very nice visit with G, who by the way looked very happy to see me unlike certain somebody I mentioned earlier. Also her Golden Retriever named Rookie helped tire out Foster for the long drive ahead.

When we arrived home, Foster must have thought he died and went to hell and Grizzley was the Satan. Foster saw Grizzley lying under the coffee table, and lowered his head to investigate the kitty cat. Grizzley, not having any of that, and why should he in his age, hissed and air-whacked him without even getting up. The scene that followed is something you would have seen in a cartoon where Foster immediately tried to turn and haul ass but getting zero traction on the hardwood floor, he ran for his life at the exact same spot for a few seconds before he took off out of the living room and hurried into his crate, and didn’t come out for the rest of the evening.

I started the search for Foster’s forever home, and abandoned the effort in a couple of months or so later. He was cute. He was a pain. He was PAINFULLY cute. He was adorable. He was a pain. He was PAINFULLY adorable. More than anything, he was a good natured, I-love-everybody, OMG-life-is-great happy-go-lucky puppy who constantly made me laugh everyday. He was a pain. I was in love. He was a pain. I absolutely loved him and couldn’t let him go.

I would have decided to keep him sooner if I didn’t feel that Foster, the only “normal” and adoptable dog at home, could find a much better family who could take care of him much better than I ever could. But a not very trusting misanthrope I am, I convinced myself that he’s a pain enough to be called a “special case”. I still feel somewhat guilty about it sometimes for having kept him for selfish reasons. Kind people have told me I have to be selfish some time. Well, I just hope Foster feels the same way.

Happy belated gotcha day, Foster! …pain in the ass…