Two years ago, I began a journey that will probably continue, to some degree, for the rest of my life.

A friend of mine runs a dog rescue – it’s a small non-profit, and she works her butt off to save the lives of hundreds of dogs (and a few cats) each year. Each animal is vetted, each potential owner is thoroughly interviewed, and each home is inspected. Every animal is welcome to return to the rescue if for some reason it doesn’t work out.

I watched from the sidelines for a couple of years. I would go to the pet store and see them set up under their canopies, each animal described in poster boards declaring all the awesome traits they had.

Then, two years ago, there was a mama dog that was dumped at the county shelter. She died in surgery as they tried to save the pups. Now there were babies that needed help.

I had no experience with newborn pups, but plenty of experience with newborn humans. I had kids at home to help me, and I volunteered to go get some puppies to foster.

“How many do you want? There are six.” I stared at the shelter volunteer. “Uh, three I guess,” I stammered.

She disappeared into a room down the hall, returning with a carrier with three six day old pups. I took them, shocked – I thought they were six WEEKS old.

Here came my on the job foster mommy training.

With the support of the rescue community, I got tips and hints on how to feed and grow these three, so small their eyes weren’t even open. My Aussie stepped in and was the doggie foster mommy, instinctually caring for their most basic needs, even though she has never had a litter. I started with bottled feeding them day and night, to soft food, then crunchy kibble. They went from a small cluster in a laundry basket, to three balls of energy running the porch.

When they were eight weeks old, all three were adopted to loving homes – and all three were crate trained, well socialized, and very loved.

Yes, it was a commitment – but it saved three lives. These dogs went to homes with contracts to be spayed or neutered, and the cycle was broken in their bloodline.

Since then, I have had a couple of adult dogs that just needed a little TLC or minor surgery (cherry eye repair), and they were in and out of my house within a month.

I have fostered pups for just a couple weeks, bridging the gap to get them to the age of adoption. I have carried them to their sterilization appointments, and cared for them as they healed.

It really is a small window of time that means so much.

Yesterday I picked up Molly. Born in the wild to a feral mom that has avoided capture for two litters, we will be the home that crate trains her, shows her human love, socializes her, and grows her up enough to her immunized and ready for her new home. The rescue president was the one that plucked her out of the woods, bathing this tiny puppy that had nests of fleas all over her. She then went to another volunteer, who took her to the vet to be dewormed, and gave her flea medicine. I am the third volunteer in the chain of life for little Molly. Her two rescued siblings have gone to two separate volunteer homes.

In a perfect world, everyone would spay and neuter their animals. Thousands of cats and dogs would not be euthanized daily. There would not be feral animals fending for themselves.

In the mean time, if you are reading this, I challenge you to help these helpless pets – volunteer to help at the shelter. Or at a reputable rescue. You could also donate money or goods to the same.

I’ve had a lifetime of dogs and cats enriching my life. I’m glad I’m able to give back.