I was told that I’m going to become a Lucky Dog today, but so far, my day has not been very lucky.

First, they woke me up at the crack of dawn and loaded me and a few of my other canine comrades into crates. I’ve been riding in the back of a van for what seems like hours. To make matters worse, Snuffles (in the crate above me) seems to be in need of a motion sickness bag, and Cujo (next door) won’t stop talking about his ruff life on the streets.

Of course, I could be back at that loud, scary place they call a shelter, so maybe I AM on my way to someplace better?

We’ve stopped and, before you know it, I’m out of my crate and a very nice hooman lady takes hold of my leash. She says, “Dino, I’m going to be your foster mom and will take good care of you.” She’s already given me ear scratches and treats. I think I’m going to like this arrangement!

My foster mom has now loaded me into another car, but this one has a snazzy hammock where I can lie down and take a nap. I’m starting to think that today is my lucky day.

In almost no time at all, we pull up to my foster mom’s home. Wow, look at that backyard! My foster mom lets me run around and roll in the grass, and I meet my foster family.

My oldest foster brother, Trusty, is only a couple years older than me, but he seems wise beyond his years. My other foster brother, Patches, is a wild and crazy dude! We chase each other in circles until we’re dizzy.

The hoomans take me inside, but it’s nothing like the shelter. This place has fuzzy things on the floor that are oh-so-comfy. I should tell you, though, I didn’t appreciate being stuck in that pool of water while people scrubbed at me. I guess I do smell much better now, and it was funny to watch my foster mom and dad yelp when I shook myself off!

Soon it’s bedtime. I’m on the floor in a metal jail they call a crate. Even though it is comfy with its padded bottom and nice blanket, it’s also pretty lonesome. Perhaps if I sing a sad song they will release me.

Aroooo! Woooo! Arooo! Hmm, that doesn’t seem to be working. Perhaps they can’t hear me. ARROOOO! WOOF! WOOF! WOOOOOO! Still nothing. Maybe I’ll just close my eyes for a couple minutes and try again…

I must have fallen asleep because before you know it, my foster mom is taking me outside to do my business in the morning. She says that we’re going to an adoption event, and she’s hoping I’ll find something called a furever family. “Be on your best behavior, Dino,” my foster mom says as she loads me into the car.

When we get to the event, I see dogs all around. There are big ones, small ones, and everything in between. And look at all of the hoomans! They keep coming over and petting me, and my foster mom tells them what a good dog I am. She mentions my singing in the crate – I guess I sing off key? I don’t think the people mind because they keep rubbing my belly.

Before you know it, my foster mom asks me if I would like to go home with a lovely couple of hoomans. They have a leash, collar, and squeaky toy all ready for me. She says they promise to love me furever!

Now I get it.  That is what a furever family is. This is what it means to be a Lucky Dog!

Crystal, along with her husband David, is a foster parent for Lucky Dog. They're the proud owners of Lucky Dogs Trusty (fka Max), named after the bar where they had their first date; Patches O'Houlihan (fka Aaron), named after the greatest dodgeball player of all time; and Nugget, a ginormous (she's just fluffy) cat. When not out hiking with the dogs, Crystal works in progressive politics, and David works in IT.