You know how I said it's easy (ish) to let a foster dog go? I was wrong.
Ellie Mae went back to her regular foster last night and I miss her terribly. I held her little soft leg while her mom swapped out collars and I kissed her little head over and over. I am such a softie.
Folded up the crate and vacuumed. Put the toys in the bin, and they stayed there. My shoes stayed by the door, and nothing on the table was pulled by eager puppy teeth to the floor for examination.
Bella and I stretched out on the couch. Too quiet.
And Bella, who wagged her tail a total of ONCE in E Mae's direction, was bereft. Seriously, Bella? You couldn't at least make this easier by jumping for joy at all the S-P-A-C-E you have with no pesky puppy underfoot?
I got up off the couch and walked around. "Let's sleep on it," I told her, while she lay motionless on the couch looking like someone had mowed her down. "If we still feel this way on Monday, we can always adopt her."
Her foster mom Jamie was thrilled to have her home and her dog and E Mae greeted each other like long-lost pals. "I'm just going to treasure this time with her," Jamie texted me, "because I know she'll be scooped up and gone so soon."
As she should be. It's why we foster: to get dogs ready for their forever homes. But WOW, it's tough.
Love you, Ellie Mae!
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