Ten years ago, I was a foster for dogs that needed homes. They were saved from unsafe conditions, or pulled from the pound. 

A friend of mine got me started – I was told it was going to be three six week old puppies. 

I went to the pound and found out the mother of the pups had died during birth. 

The puppies were six days old!! 

How could I say now when they handed them to me? 

I spent the next seven weeks bottle feeding them around the clock. My Aussie Mitzi immediately took to mothering them, even though she had never had a litter, she was a natural. She taught them how to be dogs, and by eight weeks they were all potty trained. 

At their eight week adoption event, they all were adopted quickly. 

I fostered several dogs after this – usually dogs that would stay with us from a few days to a few weeks until they were adopted. 

Then came Penny. 

She was an adorable eight week old pup that was taken from a crack house. 

She was a wild one. 

She food guarded, savagely protecting her bowl from our other dogs. 

She resisted any attempt to train her. 

She was at turns affectionate, and obstinate. 

I just couldn’t get through to her. 

Finally I called the rescue and asked for help. Another experienced volunteer came and picked her up. 

I felt like such a failure. 

I gave it my best shot, but she was the puppy that broke me.