I am now the proud foster carer of a five year old, partially blind Shar Pei called McQueen.
McQueen is about five or six years old, and has been with the rescue centre for a year now. He has been waiting for someone to take on his disability, and because he is allegedly not good with other dogs. I saw his picture on their website, and he has such a sweet little face.
I went to see him last Friday, to take him for a walk, and to discuss his history and current care requirements. I had intended to take him no earlier than April, however once I met him, I just felt so sorry for him, and he really is a very sweet dog, a bit strong on the lead, but he sees large objects quite well. I arranged to have the hire car for an extra day, checked thehire car company were OK with me transporting dogs and prepared to pick him up.
Before I collected him, I had to get the house ready. McQueen is almost completely blind, so he has to live in a clutter-free environment. For me this will probably be the biggest challenge of caring for him - not leaving things lying around, but it will be good discipline. The house was tidied and hoovered. Because I am fostering him, and unemployed, the rescue centre assured me that they provide everything. This didn't stop me from a visit to the local pet megastore. I decided that after a year in care, he deserved his own bed. They had one advertised on the web for £10, but when I picked it up, it seemed a bit flimsy, so I got him a better quality one (and 'better quality' also means 'a lot more money'). His collar wasn't to my liking either - we have to coordinate, so I bought him a new one, and some toys and treats and a brush. I could have gone on and on, but luckily, funds are low, so I restrained myself.
After an hour's ritual humiliation at the jobcentre, including a heated debate about whether it was appropriate for me to take notes, I set off to pick up McQueen. The girls at the rescue centre stayed late so I could pick him up, which was lovely of them.
After all the forms, and information about feeding routines, warnings against too many treats, and a car full of dog paraphernalia - blankets, food, toys, two muzzles, worming tablets, paperwork, we started to try and put McQueen in the car. The back was no good, because he would be shut in.
The backseat was then covered in a sheet and two blankets. McQueen was loaded in, with a toy to keep him company, which he immediately began to shred. The toy he had been given was a pink woollen poodle. The girls assured me that although McQueen loves toys, he shreds them, but I said it would keep him occupied on the journey. I have bought him a very sweet monkey, which I am hoping he doesn't shred, but the pink poodle was hideous, and shredding could only improve it.
McQueen was good on the journey home in that he didn't jump all over the car, but he did pace up and down on the backseat, cover every inch of the back of the car with hairs, and fall into the footwell every time I turned a corner or braked even slightly. Eventually it occurred to him to stay in the footwell, so at least we know he can learn. The smells emanating from him during the journey were so pungent that once I had to stop the car, convinced he had not been able to contain himself, but he was fine, just windy.
I was quite nervous about bringing him in the house. We parked at the top of the road, and on the short walk down the road he inspected every post and wall, marking each one with some McQueen piddle. I led him round the house and the garden on his lead. He seemed perfectly content, so I took the lead off. He continued to roam around. When it is daylight, or there is a light on, he can get around very well. He will walk forward whilst looking backwards though, hence a slight tendency to crash into doors and doorframes.
He didn't settle well, he wasn't nervous, but he did pace restlessly. Despite having emptied his stomach the minute he got to a patch of grass after the car journey, the frequency and violence of the smells suggested he wanted to go again. I let him out into the garden, which he negotiated his way around well in the dark. He has a particular fondness for the back gate. Nothing happened, so I wondered if being on the lead would make a difference. It didn't. At 10.30 I gave in and took him out for a short walk - which did the trick, if anyone could describe dog diarrhoea as a trick. This was my second experience of poop bags. I really can't decide which is worse, the warm squishy feeling or the smell. On balance both are horrendous, I am just very grateful for poop bag bins strategically placed around parks.
At bed time, I felt guilty about shutting him in downstairs. He also didn't seem that interested in his bed, despite me trying to encourage him onto it with the pink poodle. I am sure there is many a dog with a pink poodle fetish, but McQueen definitely isn't one of them. After a quick shake of its neck, it was discarded in favour of looking beseechingly at me in the hope of food.
He was very good in the night, no mess and not a sound. He doesn't seem too keen on his bed, but was less wary of it when I moved it away from the corner of the room. He also wouldn't go near his water bowl until I moved it. He likes to move the draft excluder away from the door too.
My first evening as a dog fosterer - two poop scoops, a guilt laden dinner, watched carefully by McQueen and a night listening out for sounds of distress, which turned out to be unwarranted worrying.
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