Think You Could Never Let a Foster Go? Read This.

A week and a half ago, my first foster dog, Scooby, was adopted through Muddy Paws Rescue. And while I knew from the beginning that fostering was temporary, I don't think I fully understood what that would actually feel like until the moment came to say goodbye.

Before Scooby, I had always wondered whether I could have a dog of my own in the city.

I live alone, and the idea of being solely responsible for another living thing felt like a lot. There are the obvious questions: What happens when I have to work late? What if I want to travel? What about weekends away? How do you manage a dog in an apartment? How much does your entire routine have to change? I wasn't sure I could do it. Fostering felt like a mutually beneficial way to find out. I could experience having a dog in the city without making a lifelong commitment while also helping a foster dog adjust to an exciting and scary new reality. 

Since I don't have a resident dog, I really didn't know what to expect when I picked him up. But Scooby was such a ham, and thankfully, he made it pretty easy on me. He settled in surprisingly quickly. He was a tiny, goofy, 12-pound Chihuahua from Puerto Rico who somehow managed to take up an enormous amount of space in my apartment, and eventually, in my heart. It took us about a week to figure out each other's routines. We had a quick vet trip to figure out what was bothering his mouth, learned when he liked to eat and sleep, figured out how much exercise he needed, and slowly started understanding each other.

There is something so funny about how quickly a dog can become part of your everyday life. Suddenly, I was structuring my mornings around walks and thinking about him whenever I made plans. The things I had been nervous about before fostering, the planning, the responsibility, the adjustments, were all still there. Having a dog in the city does take extra planning. You can't always be spontaneous. You have to think about how long you'll be gone, where you're going, and whether your dog can come with you. But instead of feeling overwhelmed by these added questions, I started to feel a growing sense of confidence that I would be able to handle it. 

Then came adoption day. I dropped Scooby off at his adoption event at Petco Union Square and about an hour later I got this text message:

And just like that, Scooby went home with his new family that same day. I knew this was the point of fostering and I knew that his adoption would be a good thing. But knowing all of that didn't make letting him go any easier. Scooby had really warmed up to me over the three weeks we were together, and I to him. I had watched him become more comfortable, more confident, and more himself. I got to see the little personality that came out once he realized he was safe. And somewhere along the way, I started to worry: What if he doesn't do this with someone else?

What if he misses me? What if his new family doesn't understand him the way I do? I think that's one of the hardest parts of fostering. You spend all this time becoming someone else's safe place, only to eventually hand them over to someone you don't know. 

I don't know much about Scooby's new family. I know he has two parents and a dog sibling, which I think is going to be really good for him. Throughout this process I’ve had to remind myself of something that’s both difficult and comforting: I'm not special. And I mean that in the kindest way possible. I showed Scooby love. I gave him attention. I was patient with him. I gave him compassion and a safe place to land. His new family will do those things, too. Maybe they will do them differently. Maybe they'll discover things about him that I never did. Maybe Scooby will have a completely different routine and favorite sleeping spot. And that's okay. Because my job wasn't to make Scooby dependent on me. My job was to help him become confident enough to move on without me.

The three weeks we spent together were the reason his next transition could be a little easier.

He already learned that a new home could be safe, that people can be trusted and that he can be loved. And because of that, hopefully, he'll settle into his new home that much quicker. Of course, that doesn't mean I’m not sad. My routine feels a little empty without him. There’s no one following me around and no one to take out for a walk. But whenever I feel that loneliness, I remind myself: I feel a little lonely so that he doesn’t have to.

The only thing worse than missing Scooby is realizing that there was a possibility I never got to know him at all. If I had never decided to foster, I would never have had those three weeks with that goofy little 12-pound Chihuahua from Puerto Rico. I thought this entire time that I was helping build Scooby's confidence but secretly, he was doing the same thing for me. 

Written by Kristyn Paez