<div id="readability-page-1"><div>The hideous, semi-hairless creature I’d agreed to foster was a nightmare. There was no way I was keeping this thing, which was perfect.I put her in the car.Also Read: Oprah Wanted To Talk About Adult Kids Cutting Off Their Parents. What I Heard Made My Blood Run Cold.On a bleak, February day eight weeks before, I’d had to put Addie, my beautiful greater Swiss mountain dog, to sleep. It was the first winter my sons, now freshmen in college, were away, and 18 months after Addie’s Swissy sister dog had died.My entire family was gone. Eighteen years of boisterous sons and 12 overlapping years each of hundred-pound dogs — their silky-soft ears, gentle eyes and rock-hard heads bounding along with the boys. The four of them had filled my thoughts and my conversation every minute of that time. Every day of all those years had been piloted by the goings-on of our lives together. I always had stories to tell of something they’d done or said, somewhere we’d been.Now the big, welcoming house seemed pointless. The couches where I’d find other people’s smelly teenagers crashed at all hours just looked worn. The refrigerator held food so long that it would spoil. The silence was everywhere. I had no more stories to tell.“You should enjoy your freedom,” friends would say.Also Read: I Was A Science Professor Who Worked At NASA. I Feared My Secret Second Life Would Unravel It All.But all those busy years of single-parenting, working full time, tending to injuries and illnesses, treats and vet visits, teams and uniforms, and the sudden need for a tomato costume or cupcakes at 7 a.m. — all of that now seemed like time I should have spent instead holding on to them, keeping them with me. Savoring them.Nobody told me they’d all leave.Now I could do anything, go anywhere, and nobody would know I was gone, or that I’d come back home.I didn’t want to be free.<figure><div><div><img src="https://imageproxy.pbkrs.com/https://s.yimg.com/ny/api/res/1.2/oJdyYbRAVZF9TK46ij4xrw--/YXBwaWQ9aGlnaGxhbmRlcjt3PTEyNDI7aD0xNjQ0/https://media.zenfs.com/en/the_huffington_post_584/c61ddaae170e6f7cb3b96664c1c3dd07?x-oss-process=image/auto-orient,1/interlace,1/resize,w_1440,h_1440/quality,q_95/format,jpg" width="630" height="834" original-src="https://imageproxy.pbkrs.com/https://s.yimg.com/ny/api/res/1.2/oJdyYbRAVZF9TK46ij4xrw--/YXBwaWQ9aGlnaGxhbmRlcjt3PTEyNDI7aD0xNjQ0/https://media.zenfs.com/en/the_huffington_post_584/c61ddaae170e6f7cb3b96664c1c3dd07"/></div></div><figcaption>Nellie on a walk Courtesy of Marjie Alonso</figcaption></figure>“I am never getting another dog,” I said to my colleague who ran a dog rescue when the emptiness threatened to swallow me whole, when the tears and the aching wouldn’t stop. I’d been a trainer and animal behaviorist for 30 years, and I had a lot of friends in the business.“I just can’t go through it again,” I told her. “But I’m going kind of buggy here alone. I need a stopgap. Send me something I won’t keep.”Also Read: I Went Into Nursing To Help People — Until I Could No Longer Defend What I Was Being Asked To Do“I have just the one,” she replied.The first thing anyone noticed about Nellie was her bulging, beagle eyes, which looked in two directions at once. Her eyes seemed less important, though, when the wild humping started — her untrimmed nails digging into your shins and her teeth sinking into your arms as you tried to unpeel her from your legs.“See if you can fix her,” said my colleague, “so we can place her.”Nellie resource-guarded food, biting if hands reached for the same morsel she wanted. She growled, she had terrible separation anxiety, and howled and destroyed everything in her reach when left alone for any amount of time. She climbed things like bookcases and the rowing machine, but she couldn’t be crated for more than two minutes without screaming and injuring herself.Also Read: My Mom Tortured Me — And Made My Brothers Her Enforcers. Years Later, I Finally Discovered Why.She growled at kids, so I invited a friend with too many kids over (look, I explained, you have extra, and I’ll keep her on a leash), and they threw her pieces of chicken as I kept her away from them. Very quickly, Nellie changed her opinion about children.We worked for weeks on trading objects, walking less horribly on a leash and being alone — I gave up on the crate, and she thought I was getting smarter, so she stopped destroying things. She climbed onto my desk, so I got smarter still and put my stuff away. I treated her ailments and gave her good food, and most of her fur grew back. But not all of it.<figure><div><div><img src="https://imageproxy.pbkrs.com/https://s.yimg.com/ny/api/res/1.2/UisDkNhaCgMHGVAyLgDgoA--/YXBwaWQ9aGlnaGxhbmRlcjt3PTk2MDtoPTIxMDY-/https://media.zenfs.com/en/the_huffington_post_584/1cab44436ba874c26b8d8ca48d086e8c?x-oss-process=image/auto-orient,1/interlace,1/resize,w_1440,h_1440/quality,q_95/format,jpg" width="516" height="1132" original-src="https://imageproxy.pbkrs.com/https://s.yimg.com/ny/api/res/1.2/UisDkNhaCgMHGVAyLgDgoA--/YXBwaWQ9aGlnaGxhbmRlcjt3PTk2MDtoPTIxMDY-/https://media.zenfs.com/en/the_huffington_post_584/1cab44436ba874c26b8d8ca48d086e8c"/></div></div><figcaption>Nellie as the maid of honor at a friend’s wedding Courtesy of Marjie Alonso</figcaption></figure>The day I gave her away to the woman who’d applied for her through the rescue, I cried. A little. Three months of intensive beagle reform is a big job. I also cried a few days later when she came back.“But ... she’s a beagle. Of course she howls,” I said.Also Read: I Fell For A Man 28 Years Older Than Me. Here's Why Our Marriage Works So Well.Nellie walked in the door like she’d been out shopping, went to her spot on the couch and burritoed herself under her chosen blanket.The second time I gave her to an adopter, about a month later, I cried harder.She came back a couple of days later.“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” I said to her as she made herself comfortable under her blanket, “Remember, you’re a foster dog. I’m free now.” One of her eyes rolled at me.The third adopter backed out before she could even pick her up.“I thought you weren’t going to get another dog,” my colleague said when I told her I’d just keep the damned dog.“I’m not,” I said. “Beagles aren’t dogs. They’re ... cat, raccoon, goat, dog mixes. Maybe some chupacabra. Trust me, this is no dog.”But I noticed I was laughing again. I reached for her next to me when I worked. I was sleeping better. I was telling stories again.<figure><div><div><img src="https://imageproxy.pbkrs.com/https://s.yimg.com/ny/api/res/1.2/ZI3f0KLReEY8OThznBvc5w--/YXBwaWQ9aGlnaGxhbmRlcjt3PTEyNDI7aD0xNjkw/https://media.zenfs.com/en/the_huffington_post_584/3386793baadef8df038831ced99ea7e0?x-oss-process=image/auto-orient,1/interlace,1/resize,w_1440,h_1440/quality,q_95/format,jpg" width="630" height="857" original-src="https://imageproxy.pbkrs.com/https://s.yimg.com/ny/api/res/1.2/ZI3f0KLReEY8OThznBvc5w--/YXBwaWQ9aGlnaGxhbmRlcjt3PTEyNDI7aD0xNjkw/https://media.zenfs.com/en/the_huffington_post_584/3386793baadef8df038831ced99ea7e0"/></div></div><figcaption>Nellie with a pair of scissors she stole from a repair man’s tool box Courtesy of Marjie Alonso</figcaption></figure>The National Institute on Aging warns that loneliness and social isolation can lead to disease, depression, cognitive decline, and a host of other illnesses and risks. Loneliness is the unhappy feeling of being alone or separated. Social isolation is the lack of social contacts and having few people to interact with regularly. With an online job, the loss of my family around me on a daily basis, and the absence of daily walks and the neighborhood dog community, I’d been suffering both.When my sons came home for vacation and, in later years, for holidays from their apartments and lives in other cities, Nellie wailed with excitement. Running up to them, curling into a doughnut, she threw herself belly-up in paroxysms of joy, at least as glad to see them as I was.She learned to share everything but french fries. My take-out orders always had them just for her, even though I preferred a salad.Her ability to find or create mayhem led to plenty of posts for my blog, Dear Goddamned Dog. The time she stole the Comcast guy’s tools. The time a chicken bone fell out of a tree, dropped by some squirrel, and she walked looking up for weeks afterward. The time she pulled the Thanksgiving turkey off the table.She loved everyone, and she was game for everything as long as I was with her.She took up the space of two Swissies on a king-sized bed. She was the back seat copilot when I drove somewhere. She missed me when I left, and she couldn’t wait for me to get home.We were walking at the tip of Cape Cod, Massachusetts, when we found a dream house — a jalopy of a place, but perfect for the two of us in what was now my sudden, unplanned retirement. I’d been replaced by a younger, cheaper model. Once again, free without election.“It’ll be our writer’s house, Beagz,” I said to her. I could swing it, and I made an offer. It was accepted. The bay window looking out onto the little main street was going to be our spot. In my mind, we were already there. It was so perfect.<figure><div><div><img src="https://imageproxy.pbkrs.com/https://s.yimg.com/ny/api/res/1.2/StltT8lc0YdYKoCw40_kHA--/YXBwaWQ9aGlnaGxhbmRlcjt3PTEyNDI7aD0xNjc4/https://media.zenfs.com/en/the_huffington_post_584/83f2d2bfd00acbb558963622a609eee1?x-oss-process=image/auto-orient,1/interlace,1/resize,w_1440,h_1440/quality,q_95/format,jpg" width="630" height="851" original-src="https://imageproxy.pbkrs.com/https://s.yimg.com/ny/api/res/1.2/StltT8lc0YdYKoCw40_kHA--/YXBwaWQ9aGlnaGxhbmRlcjt3PTEyNDI7aD0xNjc4/https://media.zenfs.com/en/the_huffington_post_584/83f2d2bfd00acbb558963622a609eee1"/></div></div><figcaption>“If looks could kill” — Nellie in a giraffe snood Courtesy of Marjie Alonso</figcaption></figure>Nellie died the day before I signed the papers. She’d been getting old, sure. We’d been together seven years by then, and she was no spring chicken when I’d first met her. Still, I didn’t see it coming. We woke up that morning and she couldn’t walk. The tiredness and pain in her eyes left no choice.I put away all the blankets she was no longer under. I gave away her beds and toys. There were no more blog posts, no more stories to tell.“I can’t believe I did it again,” I said to a friend. “I am never getting another dog.”“Think of all the things you can do now,” she said. “You can travel, or just go out for a long day without worrying about dog care.”I could just leave, do what I want, when I want, no one and nothing tying me down. Theoretically, I could jump on a plane tonight, if the urge hit, and be in Madrid or Taipei or Buenos Aires tomorrow just because, with nothing holding me back.With no one even knowing I was gone.Then a message came via Facebook: “There’s someone I know with some really nice beagle puppies ....”Marjie Alonso is a former executive director of small international nonprofits, where she promoted evidence-based education, developed professional standards, and acted as a “civilian-to-scientist” facilitator in all things animal behavior and training. She has just completed a memoir about taking her sons to meet their birth mothers in Paraguay and a reckoning with the impact of adoption. For more from her, visit deargddog.com.Do you have a compelling personal story you’d like to see published on HuffPost? Find out what we’re looking for here and send us a pitch at pitch@huffpost.com.<h3>Related...</h3><ul><li>Love Petting Your Dog? There's Something You Should Know — And We Hope You're Prepared For This</li><li>I Spent Years Nearly Drinking Myself To Death. Then A Stranger Sent Me A Photo That Made Me Turn My Life Around.</li><li>I Chose My Dog Over My Boyfriend And Never Looked Back</li></ul>Read the original on HuffPost</div></div>

PETS

The author shares a personal journey of fostering a difficult dog named Nellie, who unexpectedly brought joy and change to their life. Initially resistant to keeping another dog after losing their previous pets, the author found companionship and purpose in training Nellie, despite her challenging behavior. Over time, Nellie transformed, and the experience helped the author cope with loneliness and rediscover happiness.

I Agreed To Foster A Nightmare Dog. I Had No Idea She'd Change My Life In Unbelievable Ways.