Confessions of a Foster Fail
Author: Linda Wang, HRS adopter
We began fostering rabbits to appease the kids. For years, we had been bombarded with pleas for a furry pet to love and to hold. Raising triplets is already full-time work, and we had no intention to add more to our plate. Fostering sounded like a good compromise since it would allow us to experience the joys of pethood without the lifetime commitment.
That said, I did my research JUST IN CASE we decide to take on rabbit ownership sometime in the distant future. I made sure that an exotic vet was available within driving distance. I researched pet insurance to see if that’s something within our budget. I looked up local feed shops and pet supply stores to where to restock rabbit supplies. We embarked on the fostering journey thinking that it would be a good opportunity for the kids to experience the responsibilities of pet care. And should the kids demand a permanent pet one day? At least we’d be prepared.
What I did not expect is that I would be the one falling in love.
Fried Pickle was our second foster. Not much was known about her temperament since she had only just been cleared for adoption. Pickle surprised us and asked for pets from day one. Her bravery got her into all sorts of trouble, but that’s also what made her so endearing. Even though the husband initially wanted no part in this rabbit business, I knew that we had him when he posted a video of Pickle playing soccer. “She’s so cute!” was his explanation.
Days after returning Pickle back to the shelter, I found myself scrolling through pics and tearing up because I missed her so much.
I texted the husband: “I miss Pickle.”
His two-word response: “Get her.”
And so we did. Pickle reacclimated to our home in no time and now lives the life of a queen. Bundad ships treats from the U.K. because, in his words, “They’re her favorite.” We celebrate her birthday with cake for her and cake for us. Two rugs have been added to our home just so Pickle can have comfortable spots to zoomie and binkie. Even though our kids are well past toddlerhood, we once again have a safety gate across our staircase to keep the fuzzy explorer from tumbling down slippery wood steps.
We call her our child, but Bundad and I treat Pickle more like a grandchild who can do no wrong. When the kids sometimes get mad at her for her sassy misdeeds, we quickly remind them that she’s just a permanent toddler. A cuddly toddler with boba eyes that looks like Thumper. So, so cute.
I think we got lucky with Pickle. We’ve had her for over a year now, and she has accomplished things that may take months or years for other rabbits to achieve. Pickle came litter trained. She lives for pets and massages. She readily eats from our hand. We’ve taught her many tricks. My crowning achievement? Getting her to come when called…most of the time.
Recently, I came to the realization that even though we adopted Pickle for the kids, we got her at a time when I need her. As the kids grow and develop greater independence. Pickle fulfills my compulsion to nurture. Bundad will never admit it, but I think he feels the same way. Instead of talking about kids, most of our texts now consist of us sharing the rabbit’s latest shenanigans.
When I feel stressed and annoyed, grooming and petting Pickle helps me reset. The relationship is simple. We love her, and she loves us back.
I recently informed Bundad that Pickle will not be our last rabbit. One look, and I knew that I had just stated the obvious. We marvel at how a creature with no voice and one facial expression can still communicate so much. Pickle is family. My only regret about adopting a rabbit? That we didn’t adopt two at the same time.
