On fostering: But how do we let them go?
On fostering: But how do we let them go?
“But how do you let them go?”
One of the most common questions when Sean and I share about fostering—and one I’ve been mulling over more than ever as we prepare to say goodbye to Mystic for the second time.
There are the practical answers. We let them go because then we can bring in another. We let them go because Scout is happiest as an only dog. We let them go because being an animal’s final destination is not the sole way to make a difference.
Then there are the emotional answers… or lack of. How do we let them go? I still don’t know.
We let them go through tears. (Grins, too, when we’ve gotten to see the lives they’re stepping into after ours.) We let them go holding hands with each other, Sean telling me days later that he misses the baby dogs despite never really wanting them in the first place. We let them go hoping their new families see at least a sliver—and so, so, so much more—of the complex, hilarious, deserving personalities we got to love.
We let them go physically. We give up our grip on the leash, feel a familiar wet nose one last time, walk out of the shelter alone… but we never let them go in our bones.
We walk around the world months later saying things like “Arlo would have loved this” and “remember that time we tried to take Val to the river?” and “I’m so happy I have a hundred pictures of baby Joey during the hurricane”. We talk about our fosters like they’re old friends, because they are. Always will be.
How will we let Mystic go?
With more difficulty than any of our past guests, I think. With bated breath that her new home really is the final one. With joy for her resilience, gratitude for her teachings, a new hole in our hearts (and, if I’m honest, some relief for a full night’s sleep and Scout’s renewed peace, too).
Sean and I are novice fosterers. This year was our first foray into opening our home, and I know five dogs isn’t many in the grand scheme of the universe (even if one came for a repeat stay).
But in the grand scheme of us, of our learning, of our journey? Five dogs have been larger than life.
And I will never let them go. Not really.
