Sei was nine years old when I adopted him, and I was his fourth home. After only a few weeks together, I knew I couldn’t imagine putting him through another transition. Whatever happened before our paths crossed, I wanted my home to become his forever home.
Earlier today, I found myself staring at a picture of Sei and thinking, “He believed in me when I didn’t.”
When Sei first came into my life, I didn’t have the knowledge, patience, or understanding of dogs that I have today. I didn’t walk him in the beginning because he would display aggression, and I lacked the patience to work through it. Eventually, I developed a walking routine with him, but looking back, I can see how much I’ve learned since then.
Sei was loving and kind to me, but I don’t think I fully understood him until later in his life. There’s some guilt in knowing I could have done better. There are things I wish I had understood sooner and moments I would approach differently today. At the same time, I wouldn’t be the foster I am today without everything Sei taught me along the way.
Before Sei, I considered myself more of a cat person. I had been around dogs through previous relationships and was comfortable with them, but I never loved a dog the way I loved Sei. He was there during some of the darker moments in my life and somehow seemed to know when I needed comfort.
Sei made it to 14 years old. During the five years we had together, he changed my relationship with dogs in a way I couldn’t have predicted when I first brought him home. After he was gone, I began to understand some of his lessons differently. Being patient, remaining calm, and being present became more meaningful as more foster dogs came through my door.
My experience with Sei also drew me toward fostering older dogs. I wanted to give them the opportunity to feel loved, safe, and comfortable during the later part of their lives. That didn’t mean I would only foster seniors. Younger dogs have come through my home too. I simply found myself naturally gravitating toward older dogs.
I had no idea where that decision would eventually lead me. My first foster could have easily discouraged me from continuing, but I had a supportive partner at the time who encouraged me to keep going. I’m grateful I didn’t give up. If I had, I may never have met Marci or many of the dogs who followed.
Learning with Every Foster
Wanting to foster senior dogs didn’t mean I knew what I was doing. My first foster made that clear pretty quickly.
I was a beginner and probably a little too confident. I didn’t use a crate because I didn’t understand how important it could be. That first experience removed any doubt I had and taught me that every foster needs time to decompress and learn about their new environment.
They may need to learn where to potty, when they’re going to eat, where they can rest, and that their crate can become a place where they have their own space.
As more dogs came through my home, I also learned how different each foster could be. Some have bursts of energy and want to play, while others are perfectly content stretching out somewhere comfortable or quietly hanging out nearby.
Over time, I started appreciating the smaller moments. A dog who kept their distance may begin approaching me on their own. Their body may appear more relaxed when I enter the room. Maybe I get a tail wag when they see me, or they choose to lie down a little closer than they did the day before. I don’t need every moment to mean the dog completely trusts me. Sometimes I simply appreciate those small signs of progress as our relationship develops.
When Marci Picked Up the Torch
I took a break from fostering for a while, and then the pandemic hit in early 2020. Later that year, with the holidays approaching, I decided it was time to foster again.
I went to my local animal shelter, but construction had caused the dogs to be reassigned to other LA County shelters. I was redirected to Van Nuys and made my way over. I’ve always preferred allowing shelter staff or volunteers to select the dog I foster, and that day was no different.
The staff already had a dog waiting for me.
Out came Marci, a gray pit bull mix.
I brought her home, gave her a bath, and began introducing her to my pack. She was uncertain about what was happening next, but she was gentle from the beginning and did well meeting the dogs who were part of my home at the time, including Sei and Patches.
I didn’t know it then, but that trip to a different shelter would bring another dog into my life who would mean more to me than I could have imagined.
I was fostering Marci during the last few months of Sei’s life, and there’s a picture of the two of them that has become one of my favorites. Marci is lying close to Sei. I know I’m projecting my own meaning onto that picture, but when I look at it now, I imagine Sei somehow passing along the role he had played in my life.
In my mind, Marci picked up the torch.
Marci eventually became more than my foster. After a little over a year of fostering her, I adopted her. Marci’s calm demeanor made her a natural presence around many of the dogs who came through my home. When a foster was nervous, Marci didn’t need to force an interaction. Sometimes she gave them space, and other times her quiet presence seemed to provide reassurance. Gradually, I began seeing her as a mentor to many of the fosters who came through our home.
But Marci’s place in my life became much more than the role she played with the fosters.
After Sei died, I was devastated. Months later, there were still moments when the grief would bring me to my knees. Marci would snuggle next to me or simply stay nearby. Whenever I showed her affection, whether I was caressing her, petting her, or scratching her back, she would give me this expression that looked like a smile. I have pictures and even a video of that smile. As she got older and the gray filled her face, it eventually looked like a thin milk mustache.
I never expected to experience the kind of connection I had with Sei again, but Marci showed me that love didn’t have to look or feel the same to be just as powerful. They were uniquely special in their own ways.
When Marci’s life came to an end, everything happened much faster than I was prepared for. Even on her last day, as I caressed her, she managed to give me one of those smiles.
I miss her tremendously, but I also think about everything that happened because our paths crossed. She became part of my family, helped welcome other fosters into our home, and was there for me when I was learning how to live without Sei.
I’m forever grateful that I had the opportunity to be part of her journey.
Slowing Down with Patches
Patches came into my life differently. I originally agreed to watch her for a former boss, but eventually she became an owner surrender and needed another home.
Patches wasn’t comfortable with all the changes happening around her. She kept her distance from me, and we had to build trust with each other one step at a time. I wasn’tplanning to adopt her either. Her previous owner was looking for someone who might want Patches, but after caring for her for more than a year, I eventually thought, why not?
I adopted her when she was nine years old.
Before Patches, I had always preferred larger dogs and had never had a small dog of my own. This little Chihuahua mix changed my outlook on small dogs and eventually found her own role within the pack.
Patches has no problem letting another dog know when they’ve crossed one of her boundaries. If the play gets too excited around her, she’ll let them know they need to calm down or take it somewhere else. She also doesn’t cuddle with fosters right away. Patches keeps her distance until she feels safe around them. When she eventually chooses to curl up next to one of them, I jokingly call it the Patches Stamp of Approval.
She’s a little badass, and I love her for it.
At 16 years old, Patches is still out there walking with the pack. Being a senior hasn’t stopped her from joining us, although these days, the pack moves at Patches’ pace. She still has plenty of energy, but I can see her slowing down. If a walk runs longer than expected or the weather is a little warmer, I’ll carry her for portions of it so she can take a break.
The gray on her face reminds me to be present and appreciate these moments while they’re happening. I know our time together isn’t unlimited, but I don’t want that thought to overshadow the fact that she’s still here. I get to walk with her, carry her when she needs a break, and be her protector, her Kahu.
The pace doesn’t matter as much anymore. What matters is that Patches is still out there walking with her pack.
What Carries Forward
Sei’s Way originally referred to Sei’s favorite walking route. As I continued fostering, those words gradually took on a different meaning. They became a way for me to describe the patience, calmness, and understanding I try to bring into fostering.
Marci became part of that too.
Spice, one of my most recent fosters, spent a little over a year with Marci and had the opportunity to learn from her. Spice displayed unwanted behaviors that included resource guarding, and I watched Marci navigate some of those moments in ways that fascinated me.
If a dog tried to bite or nudge her, Marci often seemed to move just in time to avoid contact. There were also times when a foster was resource guarding and Marci would slowly back toward them while sitting, almost scooting her way closer instead of approaching them head-on. I never knew exactly what Marci was thinking or how the other dog interpreted what she was doing. I only knew that Marci had her own way of navigating those situations.
Watching interactions like those was one of the reasons I began seeing Marci as a mentor within the pack. Spice had more than a year to experience that calm presence for herself.
I’ve developed a foundation for how I welcome fosters into my home, but I’ve also learned that I must adjust for the dog in front of me. The crate, walks, and slow introductions are part of that foundation. How long a dog needs to decompress or how quickly they’re ready for the next step can be different with every foster.
That’s part of what makes me look forward to fostering for at least another 10 years. Each dog arrives with their own experiences, behaviors, and way of communicating, which means there will always be something new for me to learn.
Today, Spice is part of my family, and I’m beginning to see some of that same maturity developing in her. She’s still young and has plenty left to learn, but so do I.
Reflection
I’ve heard people tell me many times that they could never foster a senior dog because they would become too attached or because it would be too difficult knowing their time together might be short.
I understand. It isn’t easy.
I’ve become attached, and I’ve experienced the heartbreak that comes with losing dogs who became part of my family. Sei made it to 14 years old. Marci was 12 when she died, much sooner than I was prepared for. Patches is now 16, and the gray covering her face reminds me that the time I have with these dogs will never feel long enough.
Losing them hurts, and I know there will be more difficult goodbyes ahead as I continue fostering. Without Sei, I may never have started fostering. Without fostering, I never would have met Marci or many of the dogs who followed.
Things could have been so much different, but here I am.
Related reading:
- Fostering Means Learning Along the Way
- Welcoming a New Foster into My Pack
- Why Rescue Dogs Benefit from Structure and Routine
Disclaimer
This article is based on personal experience, observations, and general research. It is intended for informational purposes only and is not a substitute for professional veterinary, medical, training, or behavioral advice. Always consult a qualified professional regarding concerns specific to your dog.