Mojo Finds Her Mojo Once Again!

Little Mojo stayed with us perhaps longer than any of us had expected. Her adoption price was reduced, her plaintive face was made ‘Featured Pet of The Week’ on all the charity’s promotional material, but all to no avail.

It seemed that nobody wanted to give a home to an elderly lady who had apparently been forced to churn out puppies until she was no longer useful.

However, this unexpected delay with finding Mojo’s forever family gave her practice at being part of a family who cared for her. Slowly, her button eyes began to lose their glaze of despair, and were replaced by a brightness borne of knowing that she would be fed, walked, cared for and talked to every day.

We saw the beginnings of a wagging tail when she saw her lead removed from the hook, an expectant face appear at hearing her dinner bowl being filled, a sigh of contentment when she could lie down and snooze in comfort at the end of a busy day.

We watched her cheeky personality blossom as she caught sight of something interesting on a day out, causing her to break away gleefully, her red lead and her foster family in hapless pursuit.

She met our friends’ dogs and learnt to play with them on her walks, despite the initial misgivings of our friend Mr S, who jokingly declared: ‘That’s not a dog, it’s a mouse on a lead!’

All these things combined caused a lovely family to fall in love with Mojo when they came to meet her one day. They had an elderly dog who needed a companion, someone who would be a buddy but not exhaust them as a young dog undoubtedly would.

We instinctively knew that this family would allow Mojo to see out her remaining years in comfort, warmth and happiness. As her little face peered out of the window of her new family’s car as they drove away, part of me felt a little bit sad.

But mainly, I felt a great sense of pride at the transformation this little dog had undergone in only a few months. And only a week or so later, Penny would arrive and our jobs as foster carers would begin afresh.


In Which We Decide To Foster….

After a few months with no job yet on the horizon, I decided it was time to find something useful to do. Being in a rental property, we couldn’t commit to owning a dog so I looked into fostering a pet through our local animal charity.

I found the process appeared to suit us well – a rescued dog waiting for its forever family to come forward could live as part of our family for as long as their wait took.

Our first foster dog arrived soon after, accompanied by a representative from the local animal shelter. This tiny, terrified girl was an elderly black and white terrier, chubby and greying around her muzzle and eyes.

The rescue worker thought that she had probably been used and abused on a ‘puppy farm’ somewhere, churning out litters of pups to make some unfeeling character very rich. Judging by her physical state, it was hard to disagree.

Her eyes were so fearful and bewildered, and they spoke volumes about the unhappy truths that her voice could never hope to tell. Humankind had clearly not lived up to its name for this pitiful little soul with the tail between its legs.

The Husband has a generally innate understanding of small children and animals. They trust him instinctively, and with good reason. As the rescue centre worker deposited her trembling little body onto our floor and then left, The Husband suggested we allowed her some space to get used to us.

As this sad little dog immediately sought refuge in the farthest corner of the house, we held a family vote on what her name should be. Fearfully, she watched us from a distance; occasionally peeking out from behind her blanket to see what we were doing.

By the time her curiosity had got the better of her later that evening when she tentatively climbed up onto my lap for a reassuring hug, she had a name. ‘Hello, little Mojo,” I smiled. ”I think that you’re going to enjoy your stay with us.’