Awfully white around here

One of the things I do as part of the Pet Adoption Center is take in foster dogs, usually the smallest ones who wouldn't do well at the Center. Last summer it was a couple of litters of bottle-feeding pups, a couple of Dachsunds and a Cocker with a broken leg. Now it's two miniature poodles who came to me with matted fur and ticks, who may or may not be mother and daughter, that I have named Sadie and Suzi (after my friend who helped pay their vet bills).

What's funny about the current menagerie is that everybody's white. My own Maltese, Chica, is white with a touch of gold on her back and ears. My foster cat Sugar is pure white. And the poodles are white. 

While they're not exactly leash-trained or housebroken, I think we've made some progress in the two weeks the poodles have been here. Now I hook leashes on them and we walk together, including the cat who likes to stalk us as we stroll through the condo complex. I just let the poodles' leashes trail behind them because they stick right with me, but I plan to start holding the other ends soon. I read somewhere it's a good way to leash-train an adult dog.

As always I'll feel a great loss when they're gone, but that's just part of being a foster mom, I'm told. I'll get over it.