After a steady campaign of significantly less than six months, I’ve convinced J that fostering a dog is a good idea. Fostering, mind you, which isn’t the same thing as adopting.
I’ve already gone and talked to some folks at one of the local rescue groups about signing up to foster. Picked up a book on dog training (and wow, it’s come a long way from the dominance theory my father went by – and I’m so glad it has!). Talked to the landlord today, and he okayed it on the condition that, should the carpet be damaged, we will replace it. I love my landlords. They are by far the most laid back and logical of the landlords I’ve ever had.
I have no idea of what kind of dog we’re going to get, other than small to medium. And I have no idea of how long we’ll have the dog. It could be a week or two, or it could be months. And I expect it will be hard to say goodbye to a dog I’ve fostered. But right now I’m thinking about it a lot the way I thought about my students when I was teaching. They were mine for a finite period of time, and I did my best to make sure they were better off when they left me.
Hopefully this will work out well for all involved.