I stopped fostering dogs during the weeks that Kathy was sick and dying. When I emerged, Charlotte needed a longer-term foster home, so I invited her back.
She was among a double-digit quantity of abused or neglected purebred border collies that were rescued from a Central Valley pig farm. She couldn’t have been sweeter to me, but with each passing day she became increasingly suspicious of anyone who came to our house. I hear that’s a classic BC trait, but it’s a little inconvenient when you can’t carry on a conversation with a friend because of all the barking. I kept her until she recovered from being spayed, and then she immediately found a new home.
