Oh dear. I had some troubling news from RSPCA Gladys. You may recall my first foster lurcher, the beautiful and Egyptian looking Meg. I fostered her for my local council kennels, had her for 2 weeks until she was adopted by a young couple who lived out in the country.
The RSPCA had been checking the kennels' records and there appeared to be some anomalies about Meg's adoption. Her new owners didn't come back to formally sign the papers (or pay the fee), they also missed the appointments to get her spayed and inoculated. The council kennels, swamped with the dozens of strays they deal with weekly, had let this slide and not followed up what happened to lovely Meg.
Gladys though is never one to let things lie. She adopted her best Jessica Fletcher act and tracked down Meg. It appeared that the 'nice' young couple who adopted her had simply grown sick of her and passed her on. She was now living with some chavvy ne're-do-well on the most notorious sink estate in the area.
Gladys was concerned that she was being used for breeding (lurchers are very valuable to these ruffians, who use them for lamping and hare-coursing). So, she has offered to buy Meg back from this be-shell-suited scuzzhound and attempt to find her the loving home she deserves. I should point out, Gladys is a volunteer, and will be paying for Meg from her own funds! That is dedication. Gladys and her fellow volunteer, Maude, both share a passion for these much abused lurchers and greyhounds.
So, if all goes well, Gladys will get Meg back today. She has asked if I will foster her again. I jumped at the chance. Meg was so lovely and sweet, I came very close to keeping her and it broke my heart to give her up. It looks like my Christmas foster lurcher will be darling Meg. I do recall her bad points: she'd bully Hetty (a bit), she barked fearfully at strange men, snappily chased joggers and her butter thievery skills were world-renowned. But, she was also loving, gentle and stunningly beautiful.
I just hope the traumas of the last few months have not set her back. I am currently perched by the phone, awaiting the call to go and collect her. I am childishly excited at the prospect of seeing her again.
Well. Saw lovely Meg today. Met the chavvy dole-hound who now owns her. He was bedecked in the obligatory shell suit and baseball cap. He is 17, already has a baby, doesn't work, lives in a crime-ravaged midden and appears to have the IQ of a sloth. But, he loves Meg to bits. That was so apparent. He was tearful at the thought of leaving her to be spayed (he was unaware of the plan to take her off him permanently). In the end we all agreed she should stay with him.
So, Hetty and I returned home alone. However, I did check out the kennels for potential Christmas foster mutts. I liked the look of this graceful greyhound girl.