In December 2007 I became a volunteer with a local dog rescue group. On the same day I was ‘officially’ approved as a foster home, I was at a ‘meet & greet’ event at a local pet store when another foster mom came in with one of her former foster dogs who had been adopted and then returned a few weeks later. He had just been returned a few days prior and she had many other foster dogs and had brought him to the event to hand him over to the president of the group so that she could find a new foster home for him. The president, Bekye, said “he will probably be with me for awhile…who is going to want an old, blind and deaf dog?” I took one look at Logan and said “I will foster him.”. We have a saying in rescue…Foster Flunk. That is when a foster mom or dad adopts their own foster dog, therefore ‘flunking’ fostering. Bekye told me I was one of the fastest Foster Flunks she had the pleasure to witness. I didnt even have him home before I was calling everyone I knew telling them about MY dog. I immediately adopted him.
He was blind and deaf from untreated eye and ear infections, had been cruely debarked, but he was the sweetest little soul I have ever had the pleasure to know.
He couldnt bark, but made a noise which earned him the nickname of ‘Chewbacca’ by his vet and groomer. The first night home, this noise let me know he wanted to sleep with me, not in the dog bed I had so carefully picked out for him. I was worried about putting him in bed with me, for fear he would fall off the edge, since he couldn’t see it…and couldnt hear me if I tried to warn him. So I slept on the floor with him for a few nights until I could get to the store and pick up some bed rails.
He couldn’t see and couldn’t hear…but there was nothing wrong with his nose and he became my shadow and a lover of peanut butter filled Kongs.
I had the honor of being owned by him for 9 short months before he suffered a series of strokes and seizures and passed away in my arms.
This poem helped me with my grieving for him……
ONE BY ONE …
One by One, they pass by my cage,
Too old, too worn, too broken, no way.
Way past her time, she can’t run and play.
Then they shake their heads slowly and go on their way. A little old lady, arthritic and sore,
It seems I am not wanted anymore.
I once had a home, I once had a bed,
A place that was warm, and where I was fed.
Now my muzzle is grey, and my eyes slowly fail.
Who wants a dog so old and so frail?
My family decided I didn’t belong,
I got in their way, my attitude was wrong.
Whatever excuse they made in their head,
Can’t justify how they left me for dead.
Now I sit in this cage, where day after day,
The younger dogs get adopted away.
When I had almost come to the end of my rope,
You saw my face, and I finally had hope.
You saw thru the grey, and
the legs bent with age,
And felt I still had life beyond this cage.
You took me home, gave me food and a bed,
And shared your own pillow
with my poor tired head.
We snuggle and play, and you talk to me low,
You love me so dearly, you want me to know.
I may have lived most of my life with another,
But you outshine them with a love so much stronger.
And I promise to return all the love I can give,
To you, my dear person, as long as I live.
I may be with you for a week, or for years,
We will share many smiles,
you will no doubt shed tears.
And when the time comes that God deems
I must leave,
I know you will cry
and your heart …
it will grieve.
And when I arrive at the Bridge,
all brand new,
My thoughts and my heart will still be with you.
And I will brag to all who will hear,
Of the person who made my last days so dear.
by Leslie Whalen