At 71 years old (my wife is also 71), with the challenges of senior citizenship and retired
for about 6 years now, life had its own routine. I'd get up about 6:30 a.m., have my coffee, read the paper, do my daily Bible study then spend the rest of the day working in the yard or in my shop.
About eight months ago I became a transporter for PLR covering the Northwest Triad area. A few pickups now and then but most of the PLR dogs seem to come from the Triangle or Eastern NC area. I was "contributing a little" to help out without much intrusion on my routine.
Last week Kristine sent out a plea for help over the week of July 4th. In fact, she sent out multiple pleas. My wife and I discussed how we could help and finally told Kristine we would become foster parents if needed. I don't think Kristine got to the bottom of my email before she sent back "You are needed!". She then sent me info on my fosters. So I drove the hour and a half (we live in Jamestown) to pick up puppies from the backyard bunch, Benji and Bambi and drove back home.
It's been a while since we've had puppies in our home. So now I wake up to puppies learning how to howl, trying to keep all the piddles off the kitchen floor, finding a "deposit" hidden behind the crate. My quiet routine is a memory. Outside time is confined to the backyard with the two fosters following at my heels and my two lab rescues.
What on earth made me decide to foster?
I sit down in the floor and Bambi and Benji crawl into my lap. They breathe that puppy breath on me, lick my face, and wag their tails in contentment. Is it worth it to turn my world upside down for a little while? They just answered that question. They are happy. That makes me happy. My routine can wait until they have their forever home.
That's what matters.