Fostering Otis

     Welcome, September. I knew you were coming, but it sure took you a while.

     In the waiting, we moved my boy back to Tennessee. It’s sophomore year—college sophomore year, at a new school (Go MTSU Blue Raiders!). We moved him into his first apartment with some colorful roommates that, I expect, will be the subject of future blogs. (I may have to change names and details to protect the innocent.)

     In the waiting, my girl started her senior year of high school. She’s about to take the ACT, and we’re looking for homecoming dresses, and I’m dying on the inside. That brave little girl in galoshes is a brave young woman who inspires me.

     That brave young woman also brought us Otis.

     Otis is a rescue, we have fostered for a couple of weeks.

     I didn’t know fostering animals was a thing until "A" got the World’s Most Perfect Job. She works at a kennel that is associated with an animal rescue. So far, she personally has rescued furry little gal named Roo, a tiny Chihuahua in danger of being hit by a car and Otis.

     We think Otis is a boxer mix, but, given his growth over the past 11 or so days, and the size of his paws, the needle is inching ever closer to Great Dane. He’s a hoss, a clumsy, goofy, highly intelligent hoss. The day I met him, I thought he had a hurt leg or a limp. Turns out he’s just grown so fast he can’t figure out what to do with his legs when he gets in a hurry. His comical gait is endearing, and the fact that he is a quick study is his saving grace. He took to the leash easily. He’s learned to sit for a treat and come when called, but bathroom training is a different story. He’s three times bigger than our Chihuahuas with a bladder about three times smaller. Our floors may never recover.

     And, today, he goes to his forever home.

     That’s a good thing. Otis came the week our boy moved back to Tennessee. Feeling every bit of the loss that a mama feels when one of her birds flies the nest, my wife needed somewhere to focus her maternal instincts. The timing of Otis’ arrival was perfect. The same is true of his departure. If he spent one more night at our house, I would be abandoning the Dave Ramsey plan that we have worked so hard to follow for a fancy fence around our back yard.

     I don’t know how people who foster children do it. There is no way I could take a child in my home and turn him or her out to a world where Lord-knows-what awaits, but I’m sure glad there are people who can.

     I’ve decided that, for the month of September, this blog is going to focus on inspiration. Otis is a great place to start.

     Most people I know have the capacity to love. I wonder how many of us hold on to that capacity far too tightly. What if there’s an Otis out there who needs you? What if there’s a child or elderly adult who could benefit from your big ol’ heart? Maybe it’s as simple as a smile, a touch of your hand or a cup of coffee.

     Go ahead. Try it. If your experience is anything like mine, you might just find a pair of big, brown thankful eyes staring back at you, aiming to please and hoping for a belly rub.