Card Carrying Foster Fail
The pugs had twenty-four hours to find a new home before our neighbor dropped them off at the pound. She was moving. I was in her driveway inspecting the matching sofa and loveseat set she was selling. “I’ll take them,” I said.
“What?” she asked.
“I’ll take the sofa and loveseat.”
“And the pugs?”
They were in the house barking. “So, you’re surrendering them tomorrow?”
“I found a no kill shelter. They’re going to make sure the pugs are placed together.”
There isn’t a shelter within 200 miles of where we live that would make such a claim. “Let me see the dogs,” I said.
I was greeted at the door by two wiggly pugs who the owner introduced as Bella age eleven and six-year-old Jake. It would be weeks before a friend reminded me these were the names of the two main characters in Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight series. It doesn’t matter I am not a fan of the series, I still would have taken the pugs. And I did. They are now part of our family.
I am what is referred to in animal adoption circles as a foster fail. I take in surrendered dogs with the expectation of finding them a new home, but then fall head over heels and am unable to give them up. I’ve been fortunate in that these orphans seem to find their way into my life when there is room in the house.
The pugs’ owner dropped off Bella and Jake the following morning and were introduced to our family of three dogs and four cats. I have only one rule: Everyone needs to get along. I put the dogs in the backyard and watched. They ran around and sniffed butts. In minutes I knew the pugs were a good fit and everyone came inside for a treat.
Life went on as expected until a week later when Bella coughed up a rotten tooth. I went through the vet information the previous owner had provided and noticed that the even though the dogs had gone for annual checkups, their health problems were not addressed. I called our vet and made an appointment to have her teeth cleaned. Four-hundred dollars and several teeth extracted later, Bella returned home with a new smile and happier disposition. Again, life resumed with morning and evening walks, lots of treats, and my nights in bed smothered by The Lollipop Guild (Bella, Jake, and our darling chihuahua mix, Little One).
Bella stopped to pee every fifty yards or so on her walks, something her owner said was “normal”. Dogs, like humans, have quirks, so I would just wait until she finished. At some point I realized she was straining to pee. There is nothing normal about that, so again, we made a trip to the vet where she was whisked away for x-rays. Minutes later the vet returned with shocking news. Bella’s was loaded with bladder stones that appeared on a computer screen like glowing crystals that had stretched her bladder to four times its original size, pushing other organs aside to make room. “She’s had these for years,” the vet said. “They need to come out.”
We made plans for Bella to have surgery the following day.
Struvite bladder stones are rock-like formations of minerals that form usually due to a bacterial infection that goes untreated. Most stones are the size of grains of sand or rice. Bella’s were like river rocks with several being three inches or more in diameter. In dogs, like in humans, the stones are incredibly painful. Bella was straining to pee so often because there simply was no room in her bladder for urine to collect.
Bella and Jake are the first pugs I rescued, so I was unfamiliar with the breed. The American Kennel Club (AKA) describes pugs as charming, loving, and mischievous. “The Pug’s motto is the Latin phrase ‘multum in parvo’ (a lot in a little).” I couldn’t agree more. Bella has an infectious smile and warm, brown eyes I get lost in. Is someone in there with a message from heaven? I wonder.
On our way home from the clinic, Bella sat in the passenger seat looking out the window, appearing content. Other than stopping often to pee, Bella never gave any indication she was sick. Instead, she greeted each day with abandon. Tail wagging, wide smile, she waddled out of the bedroom with the other dogs to go outside. I reached over and scratched behind her ears. “Good girl, Bella.” She turned and licked my hand.
I dropped Bella off at the clinic early the next morning and was told she would be ready to go home later that afternoon. By 9 am my kitchen looked like a French patisserie with croissant dough rising and puff pastry spread thin on my butcher block island waiting to be scored and filled with fruit as I waited anxiously for news from the clinic.
While cleaning up the kitchen, I received a photo from a vet tech: a metal dish containing countless bladder stones with a note. Bella is just about done with her procedure. I was stunned. Judging by the photo, Bella’s stones would fill a pint size Mason jar.
I arrived at the clinic mid-afternoon and was greeted with enthusiasm. Bella had reached celebrity status. Everyone was talking about her and sharing other alarming surgeries they had seen over the years. The vet tech handed me a bag containing the stones. I washed them when we got home and dried them in the sun. The stones have smooth, soft edges. Over time they had formed to fit together like a 3-D puzzle. I sent photos of the stones out to family and friends. Bella was the heroine in a compelling story. It didn’t matter that she was a dog. Over the next couple of days, people checked in via text. How is Bella doing today?/ Give Bella my love./ Can’t wait to meet Bella!
The empathy and compassion for this little dog brought me great joy. Her story reunited me with people I haven’t heard from in nearly two years as we all struggle to find our way forward into a life that makes sense.
Bella is doing great. She is the neighborhood ambassador and leads the pack as she saunters down the sidewalk on our walks. Spring is here. Trees are in bloom and bird songs punctuate the still air. Bella doesn’t seem to notice. She is too busy sniffing bushes and greeting people. We all have a story to tell, and I’m grateful that the pugs previous owner surrendered Bella and Jake giving me the honor to share theirs.
