True confession of a puppy foster mom: letting go is hard. And sometimes it’s nearly impossible.

This was a tough week for my husband and me. For five weeks, we’d watched 3 little brothers grow, and grow and grow! Felix, Asa, and Silas came to us as scrawny little furballs, their ribs showing, just a couple of pounds each. Something had happened to mom and they’d been bottled-fed from the get-go.

Over the next five weeks we watched and fretted over them. We snuggled them as they slept more than they played. We took them out to meet people, to feel a lot of hands on them so they’d be used to it. We taught them how to climb stairs, giving them a little boost when they didn’t quite know how to take the next step up. We slipped them slivers of steak. We watched our “Aunt Cora” dog teach them, which was especially helpful since mom couldn’t be there.

They made us laugh out loud with their antics. The three of them working together to carry my sneaker across the living room is a picture I wish I’d been able to snap to share with you. They went from being sleepy lumps to being in full-blown puppy mode … racing around the room, tackling each other, and discovering the world around them.

In a blink these scrawny babies had become 10 pound chunky monkeys ready for their forever homes. We loaded them up for our last car ride together and off to the shelter we went. Their next car ride would take them to be neutered, then back to the shelter to wait.

True confession #2:  Watching the Asheville Humane website becomes a fixation for my husband and me. You see, it’s updated in real time, so if one of our “kids” is adopted, his picture isn’t there anymore.

Refresh. Check. Nope still there. Refresh. Check….

Silas was the first to leave. He’d been “pre-adopted” by a wonderful couple that we know. He’s now “Desi” with a doggie sister named Lucy.

Refresh. Check.  Nope still there. Refresh. Check….

“Felix is gone! He’s been adopted.” It’s news that Husband Brett and I are eager to share with each other.

Now there was just one left. Sweet Asa, the gentle one in the litter, quick to snuggle and nuzzle into my neck.

I don’t know if this happens with others who foster, but I find myself getting frustrated.

“How could he not be adopted yet,” I wanted to know.

Refresh. Check. Nope, still there. “He’s so sweet and loving! How is he being passed over?!”

Refresh. Check. “Well, he’s not staying there over the weekend while they’re closed!”

My patient husband agreed – we picked him up late Saturday afternoon. He would have been okay at the shelter; it was our hearts that needed him. I took him back on Monday afternoon, assuring him all the way there that his forever humans would be coming soon.. Surely he’ll be adopted on Tuesday, I thought.

Nope. Check. Refresh. Check. Still there.

On Thursday afternoon, a week after we’d brought the brothers to the shelter, I checked the website yet again. I scrolled through the list. Then I scrolled through it again.

“He’s gone,” I yelled at my husband, who was driving. Panicked, he said, “Who’s gone?”

“Asa!” I said. “He’s been adopted!” For good measure, I checked again. Yep. Sweet Asa had been adopted. My husband smiled that sweet smile of his. “That’s good,” he said. “That’s really good.”

True confession #3 – Not knowing where they end up is hard.

In the three years that we’ve been fostering with the Asheville Humane Society, we’ve worked with more than 100 puppies. Sometimes we’re lucky, like with Desi. Because friends adopted him, we’ll get to see him. Most of the time, though, we don’t see them after they’ve been adopted. We don’t know what their lives are like or who has them.

I’ve found peace through praying for each puppy that we foster. Before we pack them up to leave our house for the shelter, I hold each of them in my hand and speak God’s blessing over them. I pray that He’ll watch over them, that they’ll never know cruelty or hunger or thirst. That they’ll be loved and cherished and that’ll they’ll bring love and joy and happiness to those who adopt them. It’s the only way I’ve found to let go of these precious creatures who love unconditionally.

It’s a good day. All of the “kids” have homes. The ache in my heart will ease over time, though Felix, Asa, and Silas-Desi will always have a special place in our memories; a bit of our hearts have gone with them.

Soon the phone will ring and we’ll start over with a new litter.