Roscoe Joins The Pack

We have a new puppy dog. Actually, we've had him for a couple months. He was a "foster dog from an organization in San Francisco, Rocket Dog Rescue. We found the rescue through a newspaper article about the founder. After a fairly tragic life, this wonderful woman rescued a dog off the street and the bond she developed with him gave her the strength to pull herself up, dust off her knees, and rebuild her life. Rocket Dog Rescue was born. Their main mission is to visit local shelters, take death row inmates at the 11th hour, and find homes for them.

Since I'm not working regularly right now I decided to find a volunteer activity to fill my time. I wanted it to be something that I was passionate about, and dogs seemed the logical choice. After seeing the article WE decided to become a foster home for dogs. I say “we”, but truth be told, I didn't give Ken much of a say in the process. He knows when it comes to dogs and me, don't get in the way. He once asked me: “If Tasha and I were falling off a cliff, and you could only save one of us, who would it be?”. Of course it was a rhetorical question. Sorry Babe, I've known Tasha for longer, and she doesn't talk back as often.

Anyway, on a beautiful sunny day in San Francisco I met with Kay from Rocket Dog and was introduced to Rascal (who became Roscoe).


Nobody knows his story; he was found wondering the streets of SF and only three of his legs work. The vet thinks he's probably 10-12 years old, and believes he was injured many years back and never treated. He can move the leg at the “thigh” but can't bend it at the “knee” or “ankle”. It winds up being this “wing” sort of thing that is always in the way. It's sad and yet comical to see. He's obviously used to it because it doesn't slow him down in the least.

As I do with all dogs, we bonded immediately. I don't know what it is with me, but I haven't met I dog I don't love. And they seem to love me too. I think it's because we can relate to each other. Deep down (maybe not that deep), I'm just another flea-bitten hound.

Of course I agreed on the spot to foster “Rascal” and brought him home. Upon arrival Tasha and Frankie greeted him with their usual barking, growling, sniffing, humping and running around. Roscoe couldn't have cared less and began his quest for the holy grail of dogs, the food bowl. After who knows how long on the streets he doesn't miss an opportunity to eat!

Now it was time to introduce him to Ken. The big lug is just as much of dog lover as I am, even though they always love me more. Ken was very skeptical of being a foster home, being worried about my ability to give up a dog I had bonded with. Please, like I'm that weak. I knew what I was getting into. This is to help as many dogs as we can, not just one. As part of being a foster home for Rocket Dog you agree to bring your foster pup to adoption fairs that the rescue holds each weekend. I agreed to a minimum of two a month. I made it to one.

Long story short (too late), we've decided to make our house Rascal's new permanent home. I'll let you know what Ken thinks about it after he reads this blog and finds out. He won't be surprised, he knows me too well!