Dear Kids,
You 
finally wore me down. As much as I said, “no, absolutely not. Never.” You wore me down. Like water carving out a canyon, your constant nagging has eroded my resolve. So, yesterday, with much excitement and trepidation, we filled out paperwork to be a foster family for a dog. Within 5 minutes of hitting the submit button, we were approved.
At 6:30 yesterday evening, we were in Virginia picking up Scamp, an 8–9 week rambunctious white mutt they think is a husky-shepherd-Dogo Argentino mix. He’s pretty well trained for a puppy. He didn’t have any accidents last night, and waited patiently for Ima to take him out this morning. He is nipping a bit and has growled a few times, but that could just be puppiness or settling into his new home. Either way, he seems to be doing well.
So are we. SBE wasn’t excited about the idea of a dog. He wanted a cat (as did I); we had to bribe you with getting a fish (which we still need to get). Once we got Scamp home, you started playing with him, and I think you’re happy we have the dog now. Soon, you’ll be a dog person and won’t remember a time without one.
As much as Ima claimed to know all about dogs, we’re becoming aware that we are woefully unprepared. The house isn’t doggy-proofed (in fairness, we never baby-proofed either); we have no poop-bags (Ima used grocery bags this morning… yes, bags…that’s not a typo); and we don’t know what to do with him generally. But, as I type this, he has walked all around the kitchen, dining room, and living room sniffing, licking the floor, and eating crumbs, and now our ferocious attack dog is sprawled out on the floor fast asleep.
It’s so wonderful to see your excitement. Once I put the “crate” (SBR keeps reminding us NOT to call it a “cage” as that is insulting) together, you each took turns sitting in it with Scamp to help him adjust to his new sleeping quarters. You were up until after 10 last night playing with Scamp and chattering non-stop about dogs in general and Scamp in particular. Even though I was yelling at you to go to sleep (in fairness, I had just spent the last two days sitting in the bathtub removing caulk, filling the jacuzzi jets and sealing them, and recaulking), I was still happy to see how excited you were. And so far that excitement has carried through. SBK came downstairs this morning dressed and ready for school—no tantrums! We’ll see what happens this evening when one of you need to clean his poop up.
The real issue I think is going to be when someone decides to adopt Scamp. After all, we’re merely fostering him; we are not his “forever home.” We’ve explained this technicality and eventuality to you, and you said you understand, but I’m not sure you really do comprehend giving Scamp up to someone after you’ve grown attached to him. Maybe you do and you’ll be fine. If it happens soon, perhaps we’ll get a new foster so you will continue to have a dog in the house. Or, who knows, perhaps we’ll grow so fond of Scamp that we’ll just adopt him ourselves and he’ll officially join the family (I guess if that happens, I’ll have to start referring to him as SPS??).
There’s really no “lesson” I want you to remember , but if I had to think of something, I guess I’d say to always remember that all creatures great and small need our help and protection. I’m no great dog fan, but I do feel I’m helping Scamp and ensuring he has as happy a life an orphan can have. Oh, and be careful what you wish for because it might come true is also apropos…
Love,
Aba
