#nevermind the amount of people who have unloaded on me

[dead-loch]

I don’t know how to handle how fucking unhappy I am.

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Taking Whisks || Roland and Kaden

TIMING: Before the scream LOCATION: Roland’s house PARTIES: @sgtrolandhills​ and @chasseurdeloup​ SUMMARY: Upon learning that Sarge eats way too many Lean Cuisines and doesn't even know what a roux is, Kaden offers to teach Roland some cooking basics. The pair bond and have a perfectly pleasant evening. (But for real)

While he could solely rely on prepped delivery boxes with the simplest of instructions, Roland realized he was probably getting too old to not have any real cooking skills. It didn’t look like the being alone aspect of things was changing anytime soon either. With him feeling more and more like he was failing in his work life, he needed something for himself in his personal life. He enjoyed eating. What better hobby to pick up than cooking? Plus, Kaden seemed to know what he was talking about with his roux and flour. He liked Langley well enough. A bit of a wild card, but he could see them getting on outside the station. A friend or two couldn’t hurt, right? That’s what he told himself as he opened the door to welcome Kaden into his home. “Hey,” he greeted, “I appreciate you taking the time to show me the ropes of cooking. I have some beer in the fridge-- lady at the store said it was French. I also have some pinot noir which is apparently pretty nice. Haven’t tried it myself yet.” He had planned on sharing it with Erin, but it was now very apparent what a bad idea that would be. Even if there was no longer evidence against her, he couldn’t look past what he’d seen.

As Kaden stepped up to his boss’s house, he realized he hadn’t planned ahead very well. Well, alright, he had planned ahead and brought not just his own food to cook, but his own pots and pans, too. Okay, sure, Sarge probably had pots and pans but he couldn’t guarantee a man who ate lean cuisines had adequate cooking equipment. What he hadn’t planned on was how in the hell he was going to ring the doorbell. Kaden tried to angle his elbow to knock the door bell but he couldn’t get it just right. He then tried to adjust the pots and pans in his arms to try and wriggle a free hand to knock on the door but there was just too much. Sure, he could just sit something down first and then knock or use the doorbell, but then he’d have to reach down and pick it all up again. Instead, Kaden decided to knock on the door with his foot. Some might call it kicking, but it was clearly a knock. “Hey, Sarge,” he said as the door swung open. “Don’t mention it. I can’t let you waste away on, what are they called again, Lean Cuisines?” Kaden shuddered at the thought. “I’m no master chef, alright, but I can teach a few basics. Trust me, you’ll never be able to go back.” As Kaden settled in the kitchen, he couldn’t help but think how strange it was that he had co-workers. He was so used to being a weird freelancer type, taking whatever odd jobs paid the bills, hunting and relying on the kindness of his hunter contacts. This whole same people every day thing was new. And strange. Stranger yet was that he sort of respected and like Roland. “This wine doesn't look half bad,” he said, looking over the bottle. “You didn’t get it on account of me, right?”

While he and Langley didn’t get to do too much talking at work, Roland did respect him. Animal Control was a vital part of public safety, especially in this town where aggressive animals seemed to somehow be the norm. He looked forward to learning the basics of cooking from him. Weren’t the French notorious for really fine cuisine? From Lean Cuisines to fine cuisine-- that sounded like quite the tagline. “Yeah, you got that right. I take it they don’t have Lean Cuisines in France,” he joked. “I’m sure you’re way ahead of me. I have it on pretty good authority you make good pies.” Why Dr. Kavanagh knew that, he wasn’t sure, but he trusted her to be objective above all else. He welcomed the younger man into his kitchen and gave him a brief tour of his home. There wasn’t much in the way of decor and sometimes he missed the little odds and ends Isabel always kept around to make it feel more welcoming. He’d never been good at that whole home decor thing. At the mention of the wine being nice and Kaden wondering why he’d gotten it, he frowned slightly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, uh,” he started, “Originally thought I’d share it with a lady friend, but things didn’t quite work out.” It felt odd saying it out loud and he was sure Langley didn’t need to hear about the sad state of his love life. To lighten the mood, he cracked a small smile. “Don’t worry, Langley, not trying to woo you with the fancy wine instead.” He watched as Kaden began unloading bags onto his freshly cleaned kitchen counter. “So what all did you bring and what are we making,” he asked.

“I don’t believe they do, no. I think half the country might riot at the thought alone,” Kaden joked as he started placing his cooking accoutrement on the counter, getting things set up and situated for the lesson at hand. The mention of his pie brought a small smile to his face. It had to be Regan who told him about the pies, right?  He shook his head, tried to focus, didn’t need to sit there grinning like an idiot while thinking about his girlfriend, not after what Sarge just told him. “A lady friend, huh?” Kaden was ready to jibe him, but the look on Sarge’s face made him think better of it. “I’m sure she wasn’t worth it,” he said with a shrug. “Hey, you never know. I’m quite a catch, after all,” he said as he started setting out the ingredients one by one, trying to keep them in order that seemed sensical, easy to follow. “I will warn you, though. I’m taken so sorry to dash your hopes. I know. You’re crushed.” He took his pot and set it on the burner and started the heat it up, low and slow. “So we’re going to start with a roux. It’s a decent base to make a lot of sauces. We can make a white and a red sauce so you have some basic options. You’ll never want to look at a Lean cuisine ever again.” At least he hoped. Sarge was a nice guy. There was no need to keel over on account of the massive amounts of sodium he was likely consuming. “So how did you end up in White Crest, anyway?

The thought of a bunch of French men rioting over Lean Cuisines was pretty comical. Roland chuckled heartily and noticed the small grin on Kaden’s face. It was kind of nice to see him in good spirits. Usually when he saw Langley, Wu or Stryder were ribbing him. Amusing as it was, he knew it could make anyone a little annoyed. Thankfully, Kaden wasn’t pushing the mention of a lady friend. His own lapse in judgment bothered him more than anything else. A pretty face had never been able to fool him in the past. He shrugged, “Definitely am better off. Just thought I was a better judge of character, but what can you do?” Clearly not much considering the evidence against Erin had just vanished somehow. It wasn’t something he wanted to dwell on. All he could do was move forward and work the case alone. Not that his detectives left him with much of an option until he figured out just who was compromising cases so carelessly. He couldn’t help but laugh at Kaden going along with his joke. “Damn, glad I didn’t splurge on the fancy cheese then.” He looked over the ingredients Kaden was pulling out and added them to his mental grocery list. “A roux is a sauce base. I’ve had red and white sauces before… not sure if they’re the same ones, but I’ll give them a go. What would I put them on,” He imagined some sort of meat, vegetable, or pasta which didn’t narrow much of anything down. “I do plan on ditching the Lean Cuisines though.” Mostly on account of needing to take better care of himself. The next question made him shake his head. “Funny story, actually,” he said with a laugh, “I was transferred here. Pretty sure it was because I was hopping ranks too quickly and my boss didn’t want me to get a promotion over him… or I was digging too deeply into a case they wanted to keep hushed. Either way, I’m almost positive they wanted me out of Boston. Joke’s on them, somehow White Crest manages to be more exciting than Boston. What about you? I’m sure Maine is no France.”

“Well, better to figure it out now and not months later.” Kaden huffed out a small laugh, more at himself than Roland. True, things were fine now but he spent how long thinking Regan was human? At least Sarge wouldn’t have to deal with any fall out later “Sorry, just thinking about-- Uh, nevermind.” He pulled out the ingredients, butter, flour, heavy cream. “Yeah, it’s a base, good for a béchamel or espagnole, it can just add a good rich base to a lot of sauces” Kaden reached into one of the bags he brought with him and pulled out a bottle of wine. “And you can add wine to about any sauce to make it better. Sort of a solid rule. Never fails.” As he started working, Kaden explained as he went, showing Roland exactly what he was doing, trying his best to elaborate on it. He wasn’t sure if it all made sense. But he tried and hoped Roland was getting something out of it. “Sure seems like you got more than you bargained for.” Hopping ranks too quickly? That didn’t surprise him. Roland seemed the type to throw himself into work head on, unflinchingly. Part of him figured that was a result of this divorce but maybe Kaden was mistaken and it was the other way around. “Yeah, it’s very different, that’s for sure. I actually was last in Montreal, though. Not as big a leap, but certainly different.”  Kaden stirred the sauce in the making, never taking his eyes off it as he did. “This is probably my first longer term job, believe it or not. Most didn’t really have ranks you could hop. Odd jobs are odd that way.”

“Very true,” Roland agreed. It would have stung much more if he had let himself grow more fond of Erin only to discover the truth. There seemed to be a joke that he didn’t quite get, but Kaden seemed to prefer writing it off. Outside the station, he didn’t make it a habit of pushing people to share. Butter, flour, and heavy cream seemed odd for a sauce, but he supposed flavored correctly it could almost be a picatta or alfredo. He still looked a bit confused as he looked over the ingredients. “Becham-what? I don’t think I’ve had that,” he said somewhat embarrassed even though both words sounded French. He’d at least heard about the wine thing if only because he likes the chicken in white wine sauce at the Cheesecake Factory. “I’ve heard about the wine thing before. Not that I’ve tried it in practice myself, but I’m not completely hopeless.” He realized he may have sounded a bit arrogant, but he knew his former boss was nothing if not insecure. If anything, Roland took pride in his officer moving up because it meant he was doing his job as a leader. “You’re telling me,” he said with a hearty laugh, “This place makes Boston seem like Disneyland. Just means we all have our work cut out for us to make this town a safer place to live.” He followed along as Laden started the roux and listened to the instructions closely before he touched anything. He listened, too, genuinely curious to know more about Kaden. “Montreal, huh? Went there once with my family on vacation. Definitely a different world. Seems like you’re pretty well travelled,” he noted. It was a bit surprising to hear this was his most long term job. “Do you prefer Animal Control to the odd jobs you’ve held in the past? You seem to have a passion for it.”

“Béchamel,” Kaden repeated. He didn’t expect Sarge to get the accent right, rarely did many Americans manage. “It’s similar to an alfredo, but different. You’ll see. Or taste, rather.” Kaden continued working the roux, making sure it mixed and thickened, but stayed light. “Really, so long as it tastes good, that’s all that matters. Cooking’s not too hard when you look at it like that.” He grabbed a second pan and placed it on the stove, gesturing for Roland to take a spot there and try his hand at it. With some guidance, of course. “This town certainly isn’t boring, you can’t deny that,” he said with a half-hearted laugh. “But yeah, I’ve traveled around a lot. Grew up in Lyon, France. Saw most of the country, not all of it of course, moved to Germany after--” Kaden clenched his jaw, stopping his sentence short. Strange how he got used to just casually talking about his parent’s death with so many people. Still wasn’t something he liked to just bring up out of nowhere. “Anyway, lived there a while, I’ve seen a lot of Europe, then came over to Montreal for a bit and now I’m here.”

It was strange to realize how different his life was here to his past. Weirder yet, he didn’t hate it. He was so fucking sure just less than a year ago that stability was the enemy and that it was the last thing he wanted; that it would make his life boring or pointless or just not worth living. Part of him hated how much he preferred things now. Another part wondered what things would be like if he’d opened himself up to things a little sooner. “Surprisingly, yeah. Love it.” He brushed his hands together, looking around for the next ingredient. “Never thought I’d be the type to like a structured job with all the authority and everything.” Kaden tapped the spoon on the edge of the pot, pausing before taste testing. “Not sure there’s any ranks for me to hop but I’m really good with where I am. Guess there’s probably room for improvement, all that.” He took a look at Sarge’s attempts at the sauce. “There’s some room for improvement there, too. But not a bad start.”

It didn’t come as a surprise to Roland that he couldn’t say the name of the fancy French sauce correctly. Even when Kaden repeated it, he looked at him a bit wide-eyed, and tried saying it again more slowly. Still didn’t sound the same, but it was probably at least a little bit closer. “I do like alfredo sauces,” he noted but failed to mention that he primarily ate the Lean Cuisine Chicken Alfredo. Hopefully, this roux tasted even better since the Lean Cuisine one lacked in flavor. It was really a matter of convenience. He didn’t have any sort of passion for food like some folks seemed to. It was a means to an end. “I guess you’re right there. Here’s to hoping all the frozen and canned food hasn’t totally destroyed my palette,” he joked with a laugh. He listened to as Kaden explained his travels and how he ended up here, but also carefully watched the ingredients being prepped. “Sounds like you’ve definitely seen a nice chunk of the world. I’m glad you ended up here though. Not everyone could do your job, especially in this town.” The records alone indicated just how aggressive the animal population was, but after that night stuck in that house with Marley, Roland realized just how dangerous Langley’s job really was.

He slowly stirred the sauce in the pot to keep it from coagulation and listened as Kaden spoke. It brought Roland joy to know that Langley found his job enriching. There wasn’t much room to move up within the department, but pay raises came based on performances and he’d love to hear any ideas Kaden had to help improve the department. “I’m glad you enjoy your job. From what I’ve seen, you’re good at it,” he said truthfully. He took a taste of the sauce and it wasn’t bad. Wasn’t great, but was definitely a step up from a Lean Cuisine. “Mm,” he started, “Definitely an improvement. But in all seriousness, if there’s any changes or efforts you’d like to implement within the department, let me know. I can put in a good word and help push things forward.”

“Sure have. There’s something to be said for stability though. Everywhere’s a little different, it’s good to travel, but it’s nice to have a home.” At least that was what Kaden imagined. White Crest was starting to feel more like a home than any place had in a long time. Lyon, sure, but that was  a long time ago. And even then. Kaden tried to hold back a laugh at the second part. Sarge has no idea how right he was that not just anyone could make it as an animal control officer in White Crest. Hell it took a literal hunter. And even then. “Thanks, though. Definitely glad you ended up here, too. Even if you’re probably way too good for this small town force.” He took a moment to taste Roland’s sauce. Not bad. “Add a little salt.”

At Roland’s offer, Kaden paused and his head tilted in thought. His sauce was all but forgotten for a moment. Did Sarge really trust him? Have faith that he knew what he was doing enough to-- “You’d do that?” was all he could manage to ask. He wasn’t even remotely sure how to feel about it. The only job anyone ever trusted him to do and do well was hunting. Hell, it was the only long term position he’d ever really held. “I always worry I’m screwing up more than not or that-- I don’t know.” That he wasn’t good enough. “I know I keep saying it but, thanks. I mean that. I’ll, uh, I’ll think on it.” A brief pause and a million thoughts flooded into his mind. “I mean I already know we need some more help I think. I know it’s a small town but even another part time officer on shift would help a lot. And, uh, maybe more snare poles. Stronger ones. Sturdier cages. And an outreach program to educate people on what to do wh--” In all his excitement and ideas, Kaden almost forgot the sauce. And that he needed to keep stirring. “Putain!” It was darker than he wanted. “Oh well, still better than a lean cuisine. I’m sure I can save it somehow. Yours looks pretty good, though. Good job. I think you’re getting the hang of it.”

“I get that,” Roland responded as he continued to stir the sauce. He wasn’t so sure if White Crest felt like home, especially not after what happened with Erin. It seemed to only reaffirm the notion that he was supposed to be alone in the world. It would inevitably make it easier. He had no disillusions about how he’d go out. The risks were apparent when he first joined the force so many years ago and even more so after his father died in the line of duty. He supposed he did feel a sense of responsibility for the community. Did that make somewhere home? He didn’t want to recall the last time anywhere felt like home. Instead, he’d take his sauce only needing a touch more of salt as a victory. He added a dash of sauce and mixed it in before giving it another taste. “I think that may be spot on now.”

Roland wasn’t sure why what he said to Langley came as a surprise. He believed in helping good workers grow and important departments expand. In this town, Animal Control was vital. What he and Stryder had seen in that house only proved that belief. “Of course,” he answered, “I wouldn’t have said it if I hadn’t meant it. You do good work and I’ve seen some of the more aggressive animals in this town. Your work is a vital part of public safety, If you have any ideas to improve that, I want to hear them and help make them happen.” He’d meant it. When Kaden started to excitedly list ideas, he couldn’t help but smile as he continued to stir his sauce. That kind of passion for the job was something he loved seeing, even if it wasn’t necessarily his department. A safer community meant the whole station was doing their job. He made a mental list of everything Kaden said. “More snare poles, but stronger. Sturdier cages. I’ll have to run the idea of another part time officer by the department head, but I’ll see if I can have some pull in that. Those all sound like good ideas, Langley.” He was a bit amused that Kaden had messed up his sauce and shook his head. “You may have gotten a bit distracted, but I think you know what you’re doing well enough to fix it. I’m pretty happy with mine. Definitely better than Lean Cuisine.”

“Right, yeah, of course.” Kaden was pretty sure the corners of his mouth were turning up into a smile. This was stupid. He knew he did a better job than most animal control officers in the past and certainly better than Gary. He also had an advantage over most people trying for the job in this town. Still, it just, it wasn’t all that often that anyone told him he did a good job. His work was vital for public safety. It was something he knew but the acknowledgement from someone else, someone he respected; it felt better than he could have guessed. And it was for something he did that was normal. Well, alright, it still involved hunting, but it wasn’t all hunting. It was a lot of mundane stuff, too. And he loved it, even during the hard parts. And he didn’t suck at it. Normally he didn’t suck at cooking, either, but at least he had helped save Sarge from a lean cuisine. “You’re right. This is one thing I know how to fix.”

[fxrgxttensxul]

No one follows this blog

And thank god for that.

All my other blogs I have people who know me follow me, on this one, no one does. I can be really me on here. And I’m realizing that the real me isn’t the happy, energetic show that I put on for everyone, including myself.

I’m really good at realizing that I’m upset or sad about something, but distracting myself so hardcore to the point of just forgetting the pain. Like sometimes I think that I lack emotions all these years and that I’ve been faking it but no I’m just really good at pretending that I don’t have them when they hurt.

I have like no one to go to. Thus, I’m here. I’m so glad no one follows me on here because I just need to talk this out before I loose it. Ive moved around so much that I’ve had good friendships in each state but, I lose them each time I move. And I moved to the wrong spot this time. SoCal, where no one is friendly. Don’t get me wrong, I have friends, and I don’t care about people being mean or passive aggressive, I have thick skin. But I mean my “best friend” is just someone I hang around a lot, I don’t even want to consider them my best friend. Cause they don’t care about me, at all. The other one that I’ve known for 9 years doesn’t care to talk to me either, which is fine cause we were never close.

But every time I try and confide something in my “best friend” he always changes the subject, makes it about him or something else. I’m not being selfish, I listen to his woes and tribulations all the time. But when I’m actually battling myself and I feel like giving up, he literally does not care. He changes the subject, I’m never going to him again. And I can’t exactly tell everything to my mom, she’s the closest person I have and yet, not to sound cliche, but she won’t understand. She’ll tell me to just stop being sad, to just stop being lousy, and like ma’am I’ve tried. Idk, I just feel like I listened to her and was like “okay” and just burried my sadness so deep down that I just forget about it. Literally off my mind, poosh, forget about it. So when sometime actually upsetting happens, I don’t get just sad about that, it triggers a ripping effect where all of my bad thinking and habits come tumbling back and soon I’m sad about everything.

And I have no one to go too. I really am alone.

Dad? Barely know him honestly. But okay don’t think I’m like ungrateful, I’m super lucky to have family that cares and loves me. I just can’t open up to any of them cause I don’t want them to think I’m weak. And I have friends! Great friends that make me laugh and that are great to be around. Few that they are. But I can’t go to them for anything. I have no one to talk to, so I guess it’s adpt that I’m actually talking to no one right now, since no one follows me. Poetic? Probably. See I’m even defending myself from people who don’t even exist who won’t even read this.

I guess what this post is is just a way for me to get my thoughts out there, to feel heard even if no one is listening. This is therapeutic I guess, complaining that people should care about me. Ugh, now that I think about it, who am I to want someone to care about me? Is it normal to not open up to anyone? Does everyone keep their emotions hidden like this? See I wouldn’t know cause no one shares it? That’s a paradox isn’t it??

Anyway, I guess this is a good place for me to unload, since it’s free from judgement other than mine own. I just don’t want to go through this anymore. I don’t wanna feel worthless or ugly or that I’m never going to amount to anything. I hate going through this. And I’m stop scared of death to even attempt anything so don’t go thinking anything. But I want to just exist without existing, so like a long coma or just sitting on my phone for days on end, not being aware of the time or of all the people I’m letting down. The ones that don’t care about me. Ugh I’m such a whinny brat. Nevermind, this was a waste of time. I’m not even gonna reread this, hopefully this will make me feel better?? Lame I know

[swampgh0stt]

Something I noticed: 

While the nu52 was still fresh and unloading on the public, I was one of the many who was not happy with the stories coming out. They were poorly made, poorly executed, & honestly? It felt like everything was made up as they went along. I’ve heard from others that feel the same way, claiming that there were few books they kept up with, but individuals I have spoken to will claim they went to conventions & be frank with writers & artists about the poor execution & mistreatment of characters. 

This is sort of validation for me lately, because I remember constantly getting silenced & laughed at for saying this back then. 

Most of my complaints come from a Flash fan’s POV along with a Batfam-fan’s POV-- mainly a Jason Todd fan’s POV. I’ll readily admit that the only thing I liked about nu52 was Weather Wizard’s retcon to Marco Mardon. I 100% stand by my stance that it is unrealistic for every single member of the Rogues gallery to be white. With the amount of time I’ve spent in areas that these locations mimic, I am even more assertive with my stance that diversity is absolutely needed here & anything short is just... well, poorly written. 

That aside-- because it is not the point of this post- I have been out as a transmale for a while now. Back when I was making most of my complaints, I was still figuring myself out. I still claimed I was a lesbian, cisfemale despite the labels not exactly feeling right. Obviously the people who know me now know that I am a happy pansexual transmale, but little lady-dead-named me had it rough in my comic spaces. 

I would frequent my comic shop quite a bit, almost every other day, tbph. I caught a lot of flack for being a Jason Todd fan, if not because “Oh you only like him cause that guy from SPN plays him” then because I apparently had shit tastes in my characters. Nevermind the fact that Jason Todd was someone I related to, right? 

I may not have continued to visit if not for the fact that this was the only comic shop around, and the closest one after was an hour & a half away in good ol’ New Orleans, where I could not justify driving too whenever I wanted some social time with other fans who shared my interests.  In retrospect, I might have had an easier time in New Orleans, which is a little more forgiving & accepting with it’s social atmosphere, but alas. Mistakes have been made. 

So we’re off to a great start with my time here. Not only does my favorite suck, but I suck for loving & relating to him. He’s garbage, & I’m just a thirsty SPN fan (despite the fact that I don’t even like SPN).  Cue the criticism to my opinions of the nu52, which were continuously shot down under the excuse that “You don’t know what they’re planning,” “Just give it a chance,” “It’s not that bad, you’re just mad it’s not going your way,” and other off-the-wall claims that basically told me to shut up & deal with it because I’m the only person who apparently hated the nu52. 

Obviously not, guys, if Rebirth has anything to say about it. But what did I know back then? I was just a dumb girl!  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

My salt led me to Wally West, somewhere along the line. While I still had my complaints, I had enough unknown content to me that I could ignore the existence of nu52 entirely and dive into my darling speedster & his wonderfully stupid Rogues. 

But nothing ever lasts, does it? Because cue the CW tv show. Now honestly? I was excited for a Flash tv show. I wanted more Flash recognition, I wanted more Flash fans (and more Rogue fans who aren’t assholes) to talk to. I had high hopes that were not met, especially from a writer’s stand-point. I’m exhausted of Eobard Thawne being the bid-baddie on campus, & the whole deal is done to death. The Rogues were bastardized beyond recognition, we somehow reverted back to white!Mark Mardon???? and there were just so many problems that I could spend half my life complaining about 

But voicing my opinion in these spaces, I was met with the same exact response. What is it about being a girl in comic spaces that suddenly invalidates your opinion? I can name each & every Rogue by name outside of costume & run circles around others in details about my favorites & their stories, but somehow I just don’t know what good writing is. ---nevermind the fact that I, myself, am a writer. That was irrelevant, because I’m just entitled & don’t know what I’m talking about. 

Things are different now. I’ve moved, & I have a new shop I frequent, with an owner who- I found out the other day- agrees. The fans who come in there also agree, the people actually listen & value opinions, & I can’t help but wonder-- is it because I’m a transmale & passing? Or is it because we had enough time that the rosy glasses have lost their luster & we can recognize the faults in writing? 

Whatever the case may be, I love my new comic shop & I really appreciate the chance to speak without getting shot down at every curb.

[carasueachterberg]

I’ve realized that there is a correlation between how many dogs are in our house and the amount of stress in my life.

I’m pretty sure the stress brings the dogs, not the other way around. I tend to pile on the animals when I’m feeling stressed or uncertain. Their needs, their affection, the immediacy of their presence is calming for me.

Yes, the world feels upside down right now, but that doesn’t change the fact that this dog needs to be walked or these puppies need to be dewormed. And when I finally sit still, there is always a warm, furry body cuddled against me or a wet nose pressing my hand demanding attention, pulling me away from my worries.

The house is full of dogs and my heart is full of their stories. Fasten your seatbelts, there’s a lot to tell.

Let me start with a happy ending. This one has been 13 months in the making. Yesterday, Daisy B, the mama dog whose story unfolded tragically a year ago February in my ‘Diary of a Rescue’ was finally adopted. Daisy was with us for nine months from her shattered beginning –the fevers, the slow loss of all eleven of her puppies over the course of a few days that involved multiple trips to the animal emergency room and to our OPH vet to her recovery and the slow and steady unfolding of her silly, affectionate personality.

Daisy was possibly the most fragile, frightened dog I’ve ever encountered. She always struggled in our busy, active household full of new people and new dogs and too many men. She had several angels who reached out to her— OPH volunteer and friend, Paul, who wooed her with turkey hot dogs and tenderness and more patience than nearly anyone I know. Friends like Tanis, who visited her to reinforce her trust of humans. Kassie, Daisy’s adoption coordinator who worked behind the scenes screening potential adopters and championing Daisy. And then Deb and Scott who volunteered to foster Daisy last September. At their quiet house, with their steady love, she finally came into her own and yesterday she was adopted by a family who seem meant to be her forever home.

Sometimes when a rescue takes such a long, long time it’s easy to get discouraged, but time after time I realize that we can’t rush the adoption magic. It will come. Dogs will find their families. There’s a reason we say, “Together we rescue.” Sometimes it really does take our rescue village.

Last week brought another adoption, one that happened much faster! Tennessee Shenanigans, my sweet pup who accompanied Nancy and I home from our Shelter tour, was adopted by repeat OPH adopters. He’s destined for a great life with a fun family. One lucky dog.

Shenanigan’s adoption was my first adoption from our cabin in Virginia. And also my first socially distanced adoption. I was at the cabin for a few days with Ian and his friend AJ working on a few projects and getting in some hiking. We’d left Siobhan, our beautiful Husky foster who is awaiting heartworm treatment at home as we’re trying to keep her world calm. Siobhan is an easy, sweet, low-key dog.

“It’s going to be a quiet week,” I thought on Thursday after Shenanigans left.

And then my phone rang. It was the OPH Puppy Coordinator. I knew that couldn’t be good. Barb usually messages me via Facebook with potential litters or mamas. The phone ringing meant it was urgent.

And it was. A mama dog and her ten 1-week-old puppies were in a shelter in Sampson County, North Carolina that was planning to close its doors on Saturday. This family had to be out of that shelter or they would be destroyed. The staff would be doing only the minimum and couldn’t care for a family, nevermind that it wouldn’t be safe for them in the shelter where they could contract parvo and other infectious diseases and parasites. Many rescues have stopped transports as their states shut down. Could I take this family if they could figure out a way to get them north?

Is there really a question here? Of course, I told Barb. I can do this.

So, the next day I met an amazing pilot named Kay, who flew the family from North Carolina to Winchester, VA. Kay, who I instantly knew would become a friend (she drives the same Element that I do, lives in VA, and has flown over 500 dogs to safety in her little plane) unloaded the mama dog from a crate behind her seat and unlocked her hatch to pull out a box of puppies.

The puppies and mama had been crated separately because it was reported that she was very protective of her puppies. I won’t lie and say this information didn’t make me more than a little frightened. It was one thing to agree to foster a mama and pups, it was something else entirely to foster a dog who might be threatened by my presence or the handling of her puppies. I wondered how we would handle her in the wire crate (the only one I had with me in VA). I brought along a plastic bin for the puppies and a bag of chicken jerky for the mama.

Mama dog (now Mia) was not what I’d pictured. She was small (maybe forty pounds) and her butt immediately commenced wiggling in happiness to be out of the plane. I ran her over to the grass to do some quick business, fed her a handful of jerky, and then loaded her easily into my crate. I said good bye to my new friend Kay and put the puppies in their bin and took off.

I wasn’t ten minutes from the airport when I began to worry about the puppies. They’d been away from their mama much too long, no matter how I worked the math in my head the journey from shelter to airport to plane to car added up to at least three or four hours. Too long. The puppies were quiet – were they dehydrated?

I spoke with our medical coordinator who said, “I don’t want you to get hurt, but if it was me, I’d rather get bit than lose a puppy.”

I agreed, so I looked for a place to pull over so I could transfer the puppies to the crate. I saw what looked like a school up ahead with immaculate grounds and neat buildings, so I pulled in. Only when I’d already committed to the turn did I realize I was turning into the Virginia customs and border patrol.

I considered turning back out and driving on, but my worries for the puppies overrode that fear, plus I thought, what safer place could I do this? My actions would probably all be on tape somewhere in one of those buildings as I unloaded a mysterious gray bin and then opened the hatch of my car and transferred its contents carefully one at a time into the crate in the back. Mia was happier to see me than the puppies, but she did finally settle down and nurse them as we drove home.

Now they are safely ensconced in our puppy room proving quite the distraction from all that is going on in this world.

I’ve been posting lots of live videos to the Another Good Dog facebook group, scattering a few pictures on my Instagram, and started another Diary of a Rescue on my Facebook writer page (seems kind of perfect that I started a new Diary and Daisy was adopted a few days later!). I’m hoping the journey of this little family will be a healthy counter to the uncertainty that is filling all our lives right now.

Thanks for reading!

Cara

If you’d like regular updates of all my foster dogs past and present, plus occasional dog care/training tips from OPH training, be sure to join the Facebook group, Another Good Dog.

For information on me, my writing, and books, visit CaraWrites.com. I have a new book, One Hundred Dogs and Counting: One  Woman, Ten Thousand Miles, and a Journey into the Heart of Shelters and Rescues, coming out in July. If it sounds like something you’d like to read, I’d be beyond grateful if you’d consider preordering it. Preorders contribute to the success of the book, not only giving me and my publisher some peace of mind but hopefully attracting media attention.

And if you’d like to know where all these dogs come from and how you can help solve the crisis of too many unwanted dogs in our shelters, visit WhoWillLetTheDogsOut.org.

Our family fosters through the all-breed rescue, Operation Paws for Homes, a network of foster homes in Virginia, Maryland, D.C., and south-central PA.

If you can’t get enough foster dog stories, check out my book: Another Good Dog: One Family and Fifty Foster Dogs . It’s available anywhere books are sold.

I love to hear from readers and dog-hearted people! Email me at carasueachterberg@gmail.com.

Many of the pictures on my blog are taken by photographer Nancy Slattery. If you’d like to connect with Nancy to take gorgeous pictures of your pup (or your family), contact: nancyslat@gmail.com.

        Combatting Quarantine Stress with Foster Dogs #puppies #happyendings #hope I’ve realized that there is a correlation between how many dogs are in our house and the amount of stress in my life.