Lightfoot: ADOPTED!

Our foster dog Lightfoot will soon embark upon his greatest adventure: his new life with his forever family!

His new mom and dad recently lost their dog of 7+ years and couldn’t have their lives without a four-legged friend. They came to meet Lightfoot last night and then did a home visit at their house today. Because they’re heading out of town for a bit, he’s staying with us until Saturday. We don’t mind a bit.

I’ll raise my glass tonight to a wonderful future for this guy. He has been too long between fosters and boarding kennels. I can’t wait for him to feel that a place is his own. Every dog deserves that. YAAAAY LIGHTFOOT! Cheers, friends.

Lightfoot & my girl sharing a moment. He looks deceptively small here–all 80+ pounds of him.

Autumn morning walk and a kiddie pool, too!

Best craigslist buy in a while. We should’ve had this in place before our first foster arrived. Better late than never, though, no? Sure, certain dogs could still make their way over, but without a running start, it would take some time! Am thankful for the peace of mind it provides. We’re not letting another one slip past us!

This morning we took our first walk since Lightfoot’s been found. He is scared of busy roads and loud cars, but otherwise did well. I’m glad he’s not a puller, because he’s got a lot of mass to him.

Afterwards, I filled up the kiddie pool and the dogs drank like there was no tomorrow. Lightfoot decided he liked it better with all four paws inside. 🙂

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Pooped from a full morning.

Foster #3 and facing my own prejudices

We got the call last night that our new foster would be here in the morning. His name is Lightfoot, and he’s a Mastiff/Lab mix. He’s proven to be good with kids and female dogs. After committing to foster him, I remembered seeing a picture of him (the one below) and my anxiety rose. He’s also been previously listed as a Pit/Lab mix, though pits don’t usually have jowls. As much as I advocate for people to stop spreading hatred towards entire breeds, especially towards pitbulls, I struggle to break my own fears.

I grew up hearing my dad repeatedly spout the evils of the pitbull. He was bit as a boy, then as an adult, followed the media hype over every pitbull attack: the breed for him was akin to the devil. But this isn’t a pitbull, you dog-savvy readers note. This is how I am reminded I have a deep prejudice. It is enough for a dog to look like a pitbull for me to feel that anxiety. My logic tells me this is a dog before it is a breed. My fear says that this is exactly the kind of dog my dad would not let anywhere near his family. I love my dad, bless his soul, and if he were still alive today, I would chew him out for passing his fear to me.

Last night I stared at this picture and let myself appreciate all of Lightfoot’s fine doggy features. It helps that our last foster, Cash, was a smaller lab/pit mix. I loved that dog, and I think if my dad could’ve met him, he would’ve ended up loving him, too.

At the present moment, Lightfoot looks entirely forlorn, decompressing in our extra room. He’s definitely a muscular, block-headed male, but before any breed label, he’s a dog who needs a home. He sits quietly to be pet and has already rolled over for a tummy rub, but he is understandably unsure of his predicament. We’re going to do an introductory walk later today when we have an adult per dog. There’s nothing quite more depressing than a sad dog. Looking forward to integrating him into our pack.

I am determined not to keep my dad’s fear as my own. I would really kick his butt if he were still here, but I know his words and actions stemmed from wanting to keep his family safe. It’s my turn to parent and I’m doing it differently, for the mental health of my daughter. Instead of avoidance, we’re practicing being careful, informed dog people. I will not pass this fear to her.