“I’m Stephanie. I adopted Tully—I mean, Harry—from you!”
This was Stephanie 2.0, who had adopted one my favorites, the adorable and fabulous Harry Winston over four years ago.
Since adopting him and re-christening him Tully, she had adopted another, and also fosters for the rescue Mutt Scouts. The one at the end of her leash was one such foster.
She told me how Tully was doing, and we talked about fostering.
“Some people treat me like I’m evil,” she said.
I get that too. “‘How can you just give them up? Don’t you fall in love with all of them?’”
People ask me those things all the time, with a tone as if I’m emotionally stunted or a commitment-phobe. I try not to judge them for their inability to truly see what I do. It was only a few years ago that I, too, said there was no way I could foster: I couldn’t love a dog and let them go.
But the thing is, it isn’t the same as surrendering a lifelong loyal companion to the shelter. It’s finding a soul in need, giving them the love and attention they need to heal, and then helping them find their destiny; it’s leaving them someplace better than where you found them—a goal I try to have with everything: the planet, people, animals, life.
And, as my friend Kyndall said to me over six years ago on my cross-country adventure; “When you get into rescue, you have to wait to adopt. You have to learn the difference between a ‘good dog’ and ‘your dog.’”
As for Harry, now Tully, I knew his life wasn’t meant to be with me. He had big things to do, and I wasn’t his co-pilot. He’s a member of a loving pack that opens their doors and their hearts to those in need for a few weeks at a time and helps them on their way. He is a social, vibrant soul that makes all who meet him smile.
I still believe that if I had had a house when I met Tia, that she would still be with me. But other than those special two, I have not fallen in love. My charges are my friends that I play matchmaker with; the friends that I tell everyone how awesome they are and help them to find their person. Most dogs understand my position, but some don’t. It’s the ones that don’t that hurt the most, because I fear they think I have abandoned them.
I may seem like a soulless bastard for being able to “give the dog away.” But that’s because those who know what I do, aren’t there for the lonely car ride home as my eyes well up with tears; they aren’t there when I open the door to the house and feel the emptiness left behind. They’re not there as I wash the linens and put away the toys and make my place ready for the next one, or accept the fact that it may be some time before the dogbed gets cuddled on again. But that is all selfish sadness. The goal has been met; the mission accomplished. A beautiful new life begins.
Christy and I blame ourselves for not trying hard to find Lulu’s beautiful new life. My employment meant that I didn’t have the time to go to coffee houses, dogparks, and have other adventures with her. I wasn’t able to give her the attention she needed just for her, as well as the attention to getting her out there and telling the world that this kid was searching for her forever person.
Lulu was easy. She wasn’t traumatized or in need of recuperation. She was ready for her new home probably long before her old guardians decided to ditch her like yesterday’s newspaper. Her first two potential adopters came onto the scene within two weeks. It seemed effortless.
But with my travel plans, Christy’s travel plans, and Lulu being forced to bounce between my place and her “vacation foster,” the search for Lulu’s new life resembled rush hour on the 405: imperceptibly rolling along or a complete standstill. Christy and I had taken her to adoption events, but people passed her by.
When I returned from my two-week roadtrip, I became impassioned in finding this fabulous girl a home. She had been homeless for far too long. The first day I brought her back, I took this picture:
I felt it really captured the soul that is Lulu. I also wrote up an ad for her, since the copy on her adopt-a-pet page was just the story of Shelley finding her. I didn’t want Lulu being promoted as a sad case; I wanted her to be promoted as the fantastic dog she was.
Christy changed Lulu’s ad using my words and the new picture and within half an hour, a potential adopter contacted Christy.
Life truly is in the timing.
They were on a roadtrip, but wanted to meet Lulu on Sunday. Their 14 year old dog had recently passed away from an illness, and they were looking for a companion for themselves as well as their four year old rescued boxer, Cooper. I say “they” but really it was a single woman, whose grown kids were helping her find that perfect match. After all, whoever she adopted would be their new sibling, so they had a stake in the matter.
Sunday morning, Marge (the woman), Megan (her daughter), and Cooper came over to meet Lulu. Christy and Craig came as well to facilitate the meeting. We went for a short walk up the street, and Cooper and Lulu primarily ignored one another. We went into the backyard and still, the two ignored one another. Lulu was polite and greeted the people, but was still doing her own thing.
As for Cooper, she deferred to him. When I placed down a dog bowl, Cooper drank first, then Lulu took a turn. If Lulu was getting attention from Marge and Cooper came up to join in, Lulu backed off, giving him the respect that these were his people.
I don’t know if Lulu knew she was auditioning for her new life. I had been hoping for that instant connection, that spark, that whatever it is that indicated true love. But I didn’t see it. Instead, I felt a calming energy. Everyone was on the same level. It was a kind of peace and serenity.
At the wedding I attended in Seattle the groom stated in his vows, “…I had always imagined love to be what it is in the movies. But it isn’t. It wasn’t with you. There was no grand gestures, no movie-moments; it was an ease of being with you, the way we finished each other sentences, the way we understood each other without speaking a word…”
Maybe that’s what I was witnessing.
“If you’re going to add a dog to a household, this is what you want," Christy explained. "You want them to ignore each other. You don’t want them to be crazy playing. But that’s what people want to see."
I guess we’ve all been brain-washed by the media—even with it comes to doggie love.
Well, not all of us. Not Marge or Megan. Much to Christy and my surprise, we received this email just after nightfall:
"Hello Christy & Stephanie,
After meeting the other dogs today, my mom (Marge) has decided she would love to add Lulu as a member of our family :) We think she will be a great fit as far as energy level, obedience, etc. Thank you for allowing us to meet her today..."
We knew this was a good home. But I still wasn’t convinced it was Lulu’s prefect home. I was still waiting for the movie-moment love connection. We still had to make sure Cooper would be cool with Lulu at his house. We didn’t think there’d be a problem. He was a chill dog, and oddly, this was his third—and forever of course—home. Marge knew there wasn’t anything wrong with shelter dogs; it was the people who had the issues. Third time is the charm—for both of these canine kids.
Marge has a beautiful home, and Lulu showed her appreciation by immediately shitting in the backyard. Cooper wasn’t like Summer who had been altogether over-excited to have a play buddy. He was a gracious host, allowing Lulu her space to get a lay of the land and be comfortable without invading her space.
Lulu’s relaxed open mouth and lolling tongue was the sign of her comfortability there. Paperwork was signed, and this was no trial run: Lulu had a new guardian, a new family, and her beautiful new life was about to begin.
How could I be sad? Sure, I had a passenger seat with just a leash and a harness in it, and an empty house back in Burbank, but you know why I keep doing it? Because of this:
Because the next day, I received this email from Megan:
"Lulu is doing great! She has figured out how to use the doggy door and is comfortable enough to do her business in the backyard. Cooper must really like her because he actually tried to play with her a few times this morning and they went racing around the backyard together :) She also likes to play tug of war inside with us and seems like she's a pretty good fetch dog. We are really enjoying having her with us!"
Because you can change the world: one dog at a time. It’s not just a dog’s life you change, it’s the people connected to that dog. Look at Stephanie with Tully, and the numerous fosters who have the pleasure of couch-surfing at her place; and now Lulu has added her joyous spirit to this family who had just lost a loved one.
We’re all connected in this crazy story called Life. We choose to partake or not. Our role in it is defined by us. My role is taking those in need in, and then “letting them go” to pursue their destiny, to change the lives of others, and in the end, I’ll say goodbye to them so they can be in a better place than where I found them.
Lulu, my dear, you are a special soul, and I am blessed to have to spent so much time with you. Our lack of ambition in finding you a home worked out for the very best. It got you just where you needed to be when you needed to be there. May you enjoy snuggles and play with your new brother Cooper and tug time with your new mom. May you always be joyous and open your heart to let your family in. Trust me, no one is ever going to let you go again.
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