So it happened Wednesday night. The dreaded email from a foster. "This dog needs to be moved right away!". I hate these emails. It strikes fear throughout my entire body. My palms sweat, my heart races and anxiety grips my body. I am under pressure to get a dog moved right away and I have no clue where the dog is going to go.
I have been a foster. I understand what it is like to have a dog turning your world upside down or who thinks my cat is a toy but as a placement coordinator when I read or hear those words I want to vomit. I wish I had a phone book full of fosters at the ready to take a dog in a moments notice but sadly that isn't the case. There are so many more dogs in need of a temporary home then people willing to step up and help. There is a constant juggling act of getting dogs adopted to make fosters available for the endless parade of forgotten dogs that are being pulled from kill shelter's and being transported to us.
I first send out a panic stricken email to the amazing women I volunteer with in the large dog department asking for help. I am so blessed to have these women in my life. They are my sister's, my strength and I could never make it trough this crazy ride without them. I send out a plea to our database of fosters. Nothing but the sound of crickets. No bites. I start calling fosters begging pleading and offering my first born or a vital organ. Everyone has an excuse as to why now is just not a good time.
It is beginning to look more and more like this sweet girl is going to end up in boarding. I hate putting dogs in boarding. They go back to a cold sterile kennel run. Although there isn't a clock ticking above their head like at a kill shelter, it still isn't a warm comfy couch either. This is also a cost to the rescue that could be used to give medical treatment to dogs that desperately need it or to pull more dogs into the safety of rescue. The rescue operates on a shoe string budget and this is an expense that is not needed.
These are the days I think I can't do this anymore. The stress feels like it is going to shorten my time here on earth. I try to remember what it was like before I was neck deep in a war that feels like it can't be won. The days when I came home from work and spent time with friends or family or took a walk to relax and unwind. These days are but a vague memory because right now I have to find a new home for this precious girl. She is counting on me. I am her advocate and making her go to boarding is a failure in my book.
As I send an email to our director to get her going to boarding approved, I get an email from one of my friends. "Hang tight" she says. "I am finishing up approving a new foster. Call her to see if she will take her.". I'm almost shaking as I dial the number. "She will take her.". I think to myself. No answer. I try to leave an upbeat voicemail, trying to hide how desperate I am for her to say yes. After what seems like a lifetime she calls back and says yes she can take her tonight but.... Why is there always a but? She is going on vacation in 6 days. Well not the home run I was hoping for but I will take what I can get. The new foster and current foster meet later that night and make the exchange. A guarded calm falls over me because the crisis is over, for now. I will enjoy the little victory while I can because tomorrow it is back to looking for a permanent foster. It seems like a hamster wheel but this dog didn't die in a gas chamber choking for her final breaths. That is a victory. I will carry the stress of her because she is alive and she deserves to be alive.
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