It's for a good cause...

I am a foster mom of a beautiful, female beagle. She has multiple names: Hazel, Poop, Poopydeaux, Lou, and Total Anniliation. She answers to none of these.

My friend lost her dog about a month ago. She put up signs everywhere and has had the most thorough dog search of all time, commented on even by the police.

Last week, she got a call from some people who wanted to know how much money they would be given if they brought her dog back. She met with the people, who tried to convince her this was her dog. It wasn't. When the people found out there was no reward for the wrong dog, they were going to kick the dog out of the car in the middle of nowhere.

Of course, my friend couldn't let them do this, so she took the dog to the humane society. Apparently they are filled-to-the-gills right now, and have their fill of female beagles as well. They agreed to keep her for three days in case her owner returned, but then they would put her down.

Again my friend couldn't let this happen as she felt a sense of responsibility for the dog. She took the dog home and began the search for a beagle shelter or a no-kill shelter. There were several that felt they would be able to fit her in after this weekend's adoptions. Long story short (or not as long anyway), she couldn't keep the dog there as they have a new dog still figuring out territory with their old dog. She took it to her sister's, but that didn't work either.

So, at 10:45 last night, they brought this little ball of fur to me. The little dog is beautiful and curled up next to me all the way home. My friend had warned me though, that the dog is a good traveler, but not housebroken and not a good sleeper at night.

Uh, yup.

I got the dog home and Jon and I played with her for almost an hour before we put her in the crate. As we lay in bed, we heard the dog alternate between whimpering and trying to eat her way out of the cage.

And she did. She bent the bars of the crate and managed to escape. Little Houdini.

We put her up in our bathroom after dog-proofing it.

She cried.

She scratched.

And ultimately, she howled.

Howled, I tell ya'.

For an hour.

By mid-morning, we had all forgiven her and spent the day chasing her, playing with her, talking sweetly to her, etc. We laid with her and pet her. A lot.

She must have forgotten all that when we were gone this afternoon. That bathroom that I just cleaned up? Oh yeah, destroyed. Dried roses are now just a beautifully ribboned collection of sticks. Every q-tip, all 500 of them, on the floor. She shredded the shower curtain and somehow put dirty pawprints on the mirror. The mirror on the wall. The mirror way above the sink. I don't know how she did it....

But she's cute, daggone it. And loves our dog, our kids, AND our cats. And she needs a home. Part of me feels like she's been through enough and so what if it takes a few days to get her not to whine like a little girl all night.

I'm fostering. This is temporary. And like I told the boys, for as long as she is here, we can show her love and kindness. It is an honor and when you look into her puddles of brown eyes, you do sort of melt.

Well, sort of...