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I had lost a few pups in my years as a foster. It was devastating every time, and whether I’d had them for hours or weeks didn’t matter. Each one of those little lives slammed a paw print onto my heart the moment I saw them. If Allie wanted to embroil herself in the world of unbridled joy and heartache that came with fostering, I would be incredibly grateful to share it with her.
“Is it too early for me to name them? I don’t even know what they look like.”
“Honestly, they mostly look like beans when they’re this young. A lot of them will grow into their coloring, but you’ll have a good idea what those will be right from the start. If you want to name them now, you can think of something suitable.”
“Do I have to know anything specific for all of this?”
I let out a quiet laugh. “You need to know a lot of specifics for this. I can teach you everything you need to know though. You’ll pick it up quickly.”
“I hope so. I don’t want to disappoint the babies.”
I slipped my fingers into hers. If we weren’t already bonded, that statement alone would have convinced me I needed to wife this woman.
The staffer who greeted us at the shelter looked exhausted. “Thank you so much for coming. Someone brought them in this afternoon, and their mom was hit by a car. We don’t have the resources to take care of ones this young right now.”
Allie gasped softly at the revelation of what happened to the mother. It was an all too common fate for strays, but we would do our best to make sure her babies thrived and found loving homes so they would never have to know the street the way she had.
Upon first inspection, the babies seemed pretty healthy, though two of them did have fleas, so we would have to deal with that immediately once we got them home. We got them bundled into a travel box with warm, soft blankets and made the trip back to the house. Allie stared lovingly at them the entire trip.
It was a good first litter for her to start with for fostering. They were different enough to be able to tell apart—one brown, two black, with one of the black babies having a white sock.
“I think I like B names. Banjo, Biscuit, and Boo. What do you think?”
“I think those are perfect.”
She watched, absolutely fascinated, as we did flea baths on all of the babies. I showed her how to do the soap ring around their neck so the fleas didn’t climb onto their faces, and she towel-dried them so tenderly once they were clean. I showed her how to feed them, how to weigh them before and after each meal to ensure they were growing, and where I charted that information. She absorbed it all like a sponge and took to puppy care like a fish to water.
“How long until they’re able to be adopted?”
“About eight weeks.”
“How are they real?”
They were so little you could barely tell they were dogs except for the adorable tiny peeps they made.
“Pretty cute, right?” I kissed her temple and got a bottle to feed the second baby.
“God, I feel like my ovaries are going off like fireworks watching you feed that teensy baby. How am I supposed to cope when you’re being so impossibly gentle with it and making those cooing sounds at it?!”
“Better figure out a coping mechanism because I have to do this every two hours for a while.”
She made the cutest growly snarl like she couldn’t contain herself and wedged up against my side to watch the pup eat. “This is literally the best birthday present possible. I’ve been absolutely itching for more puppies, and these sweet little bundles needing us on my birthday is a stroke of luck from the universe. This is way more fun than a birthday party.” Allie made another excitable sound. “I can’t believe they’re here.”
“I’m glad you’re so into them. Passion helps a lot when you’re running on minimal sleep.”
“Have you been able to take a lot more fosters since you stopped heat helping?”
“Way more.” I nodded. “Now that I don’t have to take off a couple weeks for client heats every month or so, I can have a steady stream of fosters.”
“And the clinic is gonna let you bring them in?”
“While they’re still at the bottle-every-two-hours phase, yeah.”
“I wonder if my work would let me?”
“Doesn’t hurt to ask. When they get a bit older, they won’t need to be fed quite so often and they could do with the socialization. They’re great for workplace morale if you needed something extra to pitch them for.”
“I’m totally going to ask. Can I feed one?”
