Friends of mine have been fostering a dog, Rosie — the usual sad case of a pup whose owner “loved” her while leaving her on a chain in deplorable conditions.
I haven’t fostered dogs in several years because of Ava’s habit of starting fights she can’t win. But my friends foster often and have occasionally called on me to be a backup because they travel a lot. As things have developed, I never had to serve.
On Sunday they left on the first stage of a long trip to South America. They placed Rosie in an ideal backup foster home. The temp fosterer, Mary, has five or six dogs of her own, a huge securely fenced lot, and the confident attitude of an experienced dog rescuer.
I met Mary because I’m the backup to the backup in this case. But after spending five minutes with her, I could see she was never going to need a helping hand to care for any dog. By God, she was a person who was going to manage
That was a relief because although Ava and Rosie weren’t likely to leave blood on the walls, it was clear that they were going to annoy the bloody hell out of each other. If I took Rosie in, it would mean three weeks of switching them in and out of crates or otherwise giving them timeouts from each other. After meeting Mary, I figured I was off the hook.
I woke up this morning to a flurry of frantic messages from the rescue group’s foster coordinator and my friends who are already on their trip (though still in the U.S.). Yesterday, the day after she took Rosie in, Mary’s car was t-boned by a truck. Mary was life-flighted to a distant hospital. Several dogs, including Rosie, were in the car with her when the truck slammed her.
Rosie’s at a vet’s now. Not Furrydoc’s. It’s unknown whether she’s injured or where Mary’s other dogs are or what their condition is. I’ll be dealing with this as soon as the vet’s office opens.
Fate is a bitch. She certainly was a bitch to Mary and a carful of innocent pups.