The Saga Continues

I feel sh*tty, oh so sh*tty. I feel sh*tty, and callous and mean.

I could give you details, but I don't want to. Some of you are following the dog story and so let me just say, I'm a foster mom. A person foster mom.

I am more than that, but that is part of who and what I am. I take teenage humans who have been neglected and abandoned and abused. I am careful only to take those kids whose issues lie within my skill set and the abilities of kids already in the house to deal with. I don't send children back because they are not perfect. I expect them to make me crazy. I expect to be tired, and to cry, and to feel deeply worn out -- and rewarded -- by caring for them.

Though it is not really my theology, if you were to say that this is my calling, as my husband does, I would not argue with you. Those are not the words I would use, but close enough.

There are other people who are doggie foster parents, other people whose calling is taking dogs from people who purchased on impulse from breeders about whom they know nothing, who then neglected those dogs and later found themselves with a sometimes sweet, sometimes aggressive, always adorable unhouse-broken little pooch.

I could be one of those doggie foster parents, but I'm not.

I'll stick with the teenage humans.