Somewhere between finding Otis on Friday and going to pick him up on Sunday, the Greyhound rescue phoned me to say that they had found a Hound. Apparently Flick had done well with her introduction to small, bouncy dogs and the rescue thought she'd be great in our home. I panicked. I didn't know what to say.
Here Mr. K and I were off to buy new things for a new puppy and the rescue was telling me that we could be foster parents. Actually, we were buying new things for Hermione and new puppy would inherit her old things until he outgrew the teething stage, but that is neither here nor there. I was so torn.
I have wanted to foster for so long and just have never done it because I was afraid of how my guide dogs would have reacted. Foster dogs would take attention away from a working dog and I did not want to adversely effect my working relationship with either of my now retired dogs. Yet, we were bringing home a new little dude and Hermione and Hamish were going in on Tuesday to be spayed and neutered. All of that on top of a foster dog would be lot. Not to mention, all of my class work that I needed to get done.
I had the brains to ask the woman if I could call her back, but all brains flew out of my head once I hung up the phone and excitedly told Mr. K about Flick. We were literally walking to the pet store and so I think we both weren't thinking straight or really paying attention. He knew how excited I was about this whole fostering thing and so he said that if I wanted to do it that I could say yes.
And so, I said yes.
The next couple of days passed in a blur. Sunday we were traveling all day, meeting and picking up Otis. Monday was spent settling in and also going to class and Tuesday started early with Hermione and Hamish going to the vet for 8.30 AM. My day continued on from there with a quick breakfast and then I hopped the bus to make a meeting dedicated to accessibility issues on campus and within my courses, which, by the way, went very well. The head of my program is amazing, but that is a whole other story. Two hours later it was time for a quick lunch, two hours of class, break and then two more hours of class. By the time I got back home, I was absolutely exhausted and ready to sink on to the couch with a cup of tea and cuddle my poor baby girl.
The problem was, somewhere in all of that, I took two phone calls from Mr. K and returned another to the Greyhound rescue, confirming that dropping Flick off the next day was fine. The phone calls weren't the problem, agreeing to take on a "raw" dog from a kennel the day after having a crazy day and only 24 hours after Hermione was spayed was the problem. I was so excited to meet Flick and so frazzled from the overload of information that I had gotten that day, that all sense flew out of my head...again.
"Drop her off between 1 and 2? Of course. That is perfect."
And so began my demise as a foster parent.