New Arrival

She’s quiet this moment, new sounds heightened, sensitive to every thump and creak. She has crazy, fear filled eyes and a nice chunk of poo matted into her thick yellow fur.  Ears down, body flat, she pulls frantically against the leash in my attempts to bathe her, so I surrender and redirect her to the safety of the cage. 

Both of us now separated and settled, reviewing  foster docs… pills administered, safely separated from my own house dog, belly filled, bathroom visits complete.  All the boxes are checked.  So she sits, ears at the ready, waiting for me to round the corner. Making some tea, washing the dishes to distract my busy thoughts,  she test barks, to see if I’ll appear.  A whine, a howl.  We’re both making our normal sounds, creating a sense of routine, yet inside I’m reeling with lack of control. 

What have I gotten myself into?  She needs a bath, so I can check the next box by applying the flea & tick treatment…what if she has fleas?  Will my entire house have fleas? Will my house dog need treatment, too? I need to clean that matted fur, make her all pretty and shiny again.   Will she loose her little mind if I pick her up and plunge her into the bathtub? Will I be yet another line of humans that betray her? 

All new parent thoughts…worries, overthinking, unsure.  Safer here than there, I must resign to rest content that the bath can wait, for now.  Release the worry and know that she is ok.  All her basic needs fulfilled, my job is to reflect safety and refueling her love, preparing her for that forever home. 

So I sit, write, maybe still worry, but content that she is satisfied and will eventually trust and love another human.