Perhaps this is why I like dogs more than children: they get to the mile markers a lot faster. In this week alone, Harry has grow a couple inches, gained at least a pound, lost four teeth, and I can see at least two of the teeth a third of the way in already.
Emotionally, he's even grown up enough to be slightly needy....like when I get out of the bathroom I find him just on the other side of the door instead of three rooms away where I left him. Unlike other canine guests who have grown more independent as time goes on, Harry has grown more co-dependent. For example, I explained to Harry that I had work to do, went into the office and he followed. He sat beneath my chair and stared at me. When I told him I couldn't play at the moment he barked at me. Yet, when I go in to the living room to play with him, he takes the toy and chews on it by himself. I walk away and he gets offended that I am no longer with him. If there was ever any doubt, it's gone now. It's official: he is part dachshund.
Harry is also a botanist. He enjoys studying the seeds that he comes across on the sidewalk. This one in particular fascinated him.
He had come across it the day before and I had a hard time breaking his curious gaze. The next day it was on the sidewalk and he walked over next to it, sat his rump down and stared at it with his head slightly tilted. Then, much to my suprise, he swished his tail back and forth as if he was completely delighted by the thing and if he could speak, would have giggled and said, "Hehe. That's so cute."
When the bell tolls 11:00 p.m., Harry is a cat. The middle of the night seems the best time to be active for felines as well as for Harry. Having slept all day, and knowing it is time to go to bed for the night, he runs around like a maniac. He either does the full circle of living room-hallway-kitchen or just around the living room. One night he pretended to be a glass of beer on a bar as he jumped off the couch, braced his feet, landed on the coffee table, and slid all the way across it and onto the floor.
And yet despite all that activity, the moment I put him up on the bed and I turn the lights off, Harry closes his eyes. Bed time is bed time. Perhaps his rant is just one last ditch effort to expend as much energy as possible before lights out.
Or perhaps, he just needs some play time. His health worries me as he goes from days of complete sleep to days being bright-eyes and bushy-tailed. He goes from hacking every ten minutes to not a peep for hours. Finally today, I had had enough of being paranoid, and when we out at peak dog-walking time, I didn't tell anyone he was sick. And Harry nicely conspired, never letting a single cough out. As a reward, he got an all out multi-round tumble on a neighbor's lawn with a nine month old puppy.
Previously, I had tried to let Harry say hello to dogs passing by, and it was clear that he had no idea what proper etiquette was. How could he? No one had taught him. He would immediately go into the play stance and jump into the dog's face before any butt-sniffing or introductions. It was the equivalent of someone saying hello by sticking his tongue down your throat. A simple "Howdya Do?" and a handshake would be a far more appropriate initial greeting.
Previous dogs have been nice enough to allow Harry his discourtesies, and then came along this beagle, who had no issues at all with Harry's hello. A sniff on the nose and bam, they were down in play stances. They were toppling on the median between sidewalk and street and I edged them closer to the sidewalk. They immediately determined their ring to be someone's front lawn--the someones being on the front porch of course. Can't choose a vacant lot--that would be too easy. I said to the human attached to the beagle's leash, "I think we should probably get them off other people's lawns," to which the kind woman on the porch said, "No! Don't worry about it. They're having so much fun!"
So for about ten minutes, the beagle's owner and I danced around, untangling our leashes as the boys went at it on the lawn. Meanwhile the lawn's owners came out to watch the play. Two children, and a middle-aged couple couldn't take their eyes off this wrestling match. The beagle was bigger by a few pounds and inches, but Harry held his own. In fact, I thought it was quite nice of the beagle to allow Harry to win a few rounds. When they started to get vocal and lips were turning into snarls, I sensed it was time to call it a day before things turned ugly. The beagle's owner had to drag him away, literally. I stayed where I was as not to have Harry follow behind. It took some doing, but she got Randy, the beagle down the street. See, I know the dog's name; I never got hers.
A few minutes later around the corner a beautiful white shepherd and two women were walking along and had to stop to say how cute Harry was. The white shepherd was elegant and gracious as Harry bounced on his face.
"I'm sorry. Your dog is going to get irritated in a minute," I said.
"Oh, no, he likes little dogs. I have two dachshunds at home," she replied.
He obviously is a very patient dog; one dachshund is usually enough attitude for any one dog--or person--to handle.
Every day is a rollercoaster with Harry. One minute I'm worried he can't breathe and am picking up yellow mucus that he's coughed up, the next he's running around like a spunky puppy and I can't think he possibly can be sick. I started the day listening to him hack at the end of the bed, and I'm ending tonight listening to him topple around on the living room floor with a squeaky toy. He's not getting progressively better; he just has good days and bad days.
And through all that, he's growing up--quickly. I've only had him a week, but it feels like longer. I have to admit it (well you probably figured it out already): I've gotten attached to this little guy. It's gonna hurt when he leaves, I know it is. I was watching an episode of Pit Boss the other night where Shorty says if you're fostering, "Don't get attached!" But I disagree. Getting attached is what makes fostering so wonderful for the dog. He learns to love and trust. You put your heart out there and he puts his out there for you. Every time Harry decides he want to sit on my lap and comes up to me without provocation, it feels good. You can get attached, as long as you know you're going to have to let go. And I know I will.
A guy on the street asked me how I could keep them for a week and then let them go. "Because they're going some place better," I said.
If you think about it, we almost always eventually say good-bye to the animals we love. As a foster, I have to say good-bye, but not because their life has ended; I'm saying good-bye because their life is about to begin. That's why I can do it: because it's not an ending; it's a beginning. I just hope Harry gets his new beginning soon. He might not have all the kinks worked out on how to say "Hello" in dogspeak, but he's still ready to greet his future.
If you know anyone in the LA area who could be his future family, please send them his link!
http://www.adoptapet.com/pet4388712.html
Harry has a wee cold, but he's willing to meet you (I promise he won't sneeze and snot your shoes!).
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