News
Foster Failure
April 30, 2008, 8:29PM MT
By Amie McGraham
How one volunteer turned a tragedy into a triumph
How one volunteer turned a tragedy into a triumph
by Morgan Sailor, Best Friends Network Volunteer
One hand knotted antique Persian rug from Iran, $1,500. One pair of Versace sunglasses, $500. One keyboard and mouse $60. Three lamps, $100. Two phone chargers, $40. One textbook the night before my test, $50 and an F. Two alarm clocks, $60, and God only knows what I’ve forgotten.
Knowing I gave a homeless dog a place to lay his head and plenty of things to chew on . . .priceless.
So here’s Reilly’s story. . . and mine. Many months ago I found a dog. I did not know what to do with that dog so I called animal control. I put up posters and flyers in case anyone was looking for him. I found out what kennel he was in and put that on there too. The morning he was going to go up for adoption I arrived at the pound before they opened to make sure nothing bad happened to that dog whom I now felt responsible for. I was too late. I don’t know what his fate had become, but he was not there and the people working at the pound did not have any answers for me. I could only imagine the worst. I had death on my hands and I cried, and I vowed that never again would I let this happen, that from here on out I was going to be part of the solution.
Fostering With Best Friends
So I began to look for ways to volunteer. I called many organizations, but Best Friends was the only one to respond. I learned of that they needed overnight foster parents and jumped at the chance. Trying desperately somehow to shake off my guilt. The first night I had M&M. She peed in my tempurpedic bed. Twice. The second night was Donna. She was a sweet, nervous thing who my own dog, Muttley, proceeded to terrorize into the wee hours of the morning, at which point we all collapsed from exhaustion. The third night I picked up Reilly. I did not want him. Big and black and slightly resembling the obnoxious kid I once knew who bore the same name. I put him in the car, and drove home with a bad feeling about what was about to happened. What followed was an anticlimax. Nothing. He was a perfect angel, completely calm and housebroken and able to hold his own against the reigning queen.
The next day I was a little sad about returning Reilly. He didn’t get adopted, and I asked about long term fostering. That night Reilly came home with me to stay for a while. I clearly remember thinking about how good it felt to help out. Then Reilly ate my Persian rug. The good feeling began to wan a little bit. A week later he shredded a pillow. Not just any pillow, but one of those ones with all the tiny, little, static-y beads inside. I woke up to two white dogs, one very unhappy and the other extremely proud of his accomplishments. I spent three days scraping styrofoam balls out of every crevice in my newly installed wood floor. In the process of cleaning up this disaster area, I discovered that Reilly had a passion for electric cords. The kind of uncontrollable passion which forces you to seek and destroy that which you love. Am I boring you yet? I could go on; I’ve now got five months worth.
Reilly’s Forever Home?
Ahh, how those months have flown by, like a sea of pillow stuffing floating in the wind. My cat is on strike, and Muttley is still a little upset about not being the center of attention. My neighbor has threatened to call the police because of the ridiculous decibel of noise every time I leave. Reilly attended one adoption event, and ensured his return to what he considers his forever home by proceeding to bark at the top of his lungs for three days. He was so sad when he got home, I was sure that he thought I betrayed him. On reflection though, I think he was just exhausted from making himself as annoying as possible for an entire weekend.
That was months ago, and he hasn’t been back to an adoption event since. I have a plethora of excuses as to why this destructive, reactive, crazy creature is now squatting in my 700 square foot condo. The truth though, is that it still does feel good. It feels even better now, because I know no matter how many rugs he eats they will never be able to make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside the way he does when he looks at me with those big googly eyes and plants a giant disgusting sloppy kiss across my entire face.
What You Can Do
• Interested in becoming a Best Friends foster parent? Call Susan or Justin Plimley, Best Friends Mobile Adoption Volunteer Supervisors at 602-300-5755 or email plimley@qwest.net.
Posted by Amie McGraham, Best Friends Network Volunteer
Photo Credit: Morgan Sailor
Pictured: Reilly, doing what he does best