You don't know the half of it. I recently had another foster failure. In October I took in a little BC mix, now named Tess, that spent the first 7 years of her life at a puppy mill that bred Malamutes. She was allowed to have litter after litter of mixed breed pups and was constantly harassed by the larger, adult dogs. Years of neglect and puppy rearing took their toll on Tess . She came to me skinny, flea-ridden, with one of the worst worm infestations my vet had ever seen, and with practically no coat. Worst of all, during her spay surgery my vet found a large mass in her intestines. We opted for a resection and biopsy, which unfortunately came back as malignant adenocarcinoma, a really bad cancer that will inevitably spread.
So by necessity, Tess went from "foster dog" to "my dog", a job she takes quite seriously. She follows me from room to room and is happiest either curled in a ball on my lap surrounded by her "minions" (otherwise known as a large pile of stuffed toys).
Taken when Tess arrived...
Taken 2 months later...
With her "minions"
"Can we lose this freakin' hat, already?"
Vicki, Sammie Jo, Tess, Red (1998-2010), Bailey, Cate, and Casey
And bless you for taking in and loving Tess for the rest of her life. The transformation is unbelieveable. It's a shame about her health, but at least she will have the opportunity to experience joy and love during the rest of her days.
Mary and the boys: Milo, Charlie, Skittles, Ollie, and Steve (token human male)
Think occasionally of the suffering of which you spare yourself the sight. ~ Albert Schweitzer