Love of Labs, Indiana (LOLIN)

Making a Difference, One Lab at a Time

Labrador Retriever Rescue in Indiana and Surrounding States

About LOLIN

More LOLIN Info

  Adoption Process

  Available Labs

  Foster a Lab

  Surrender Your Lab

  FAQ's

  Events, Fundraising

  How Can You Help?

  Why a Rescue?

  Great Dog Info

  Happy Tails

  Memories

Many dogs here in Central IN are going to die if we cannot find more fosters asap.  Please help.  If you have questions, please click on Foster Information.  Then, write us at lolin@comcast.net for a foster application.  There are many, many dogs just waiting for you to allow them to live.  BUT, first, if you can't stand the thought of a dirty dog in your home, with smelly ears, and very thin, sometimes afraid, PLEASE stop here. 

And yes, it is hard to give up your foster dogs, especially after you have them for a while!  But, you get to be part of their life forever after, should you desire to be.  You as the foster, have the right to call the new forever home to inquire how the dog is doing &/or to visit the dogs.  Almost all of us that foster for LOLIN have continual contact with the forever guardians and the former LOLIN dogs. 

The new families are always proud to show us how wonderful their "babies" are doing, plus they never hesitate to call us if they need anything either.    You see, fostering is very rewarding!!!! 

Sure, your foster dogs take a piece of your heart with them when they leave, and I swear, they never forget you!!  But your very next foster dog immediately comes into your home and promptly gives you a much larger piece of his heart!!  This allows your heart to get large enough so that you always have more than enough heart to share with the next foster that comes into your home truly needing that love.   

Please remember, we need a Vet reference and your animals need to be up-to-date on their shots, and spayed/neutered.  We always want a fenced in yard if possible, or some means of exercising the foster Lab each and every day, several times preferred.  Thank you.  ~

WHAT FOSTERING IS

WHAT Fostering is NOT

Common Problems with Foster Dogs and Remedies

A POEM TO MY FOSTER DOG

BY Diane Morgan

I am the bridge,
Between what was and what can be.
I am the pathway to a new life.
I am made of mush,
Because my heart melted when I saw you,
Matted and sore, limping, depressed
Lonely, unwanted, afraid to love.
For one little time you are mine.
I will feed you with my own hand.
I will love you with my whole heart.
I will make you whole.
I am made of steel.
Because when the time comes,
When you are well, and sleek,
when your eyes shine,
And your tail wags with joy
Then comes the hard part.
I will let you go-not without a tear,
But without a regret.
For you are safe forever--
A new dog needs me now  

Little Pieces
by Grace Saalsaa (Written for those who foster)

Melissa sat on the floor, unable to sit straight and tall like her mother had always admonished her to do when she was a child. Today, it would be impossible. And tomorrow... it probably wouldn't be possible then either. Her mind was too busy thinking about the dog that lay across her lap.

When he came to be with her, he had no name. She remembered that day very well. The first sight of him was enough to break her heart into little pieces.

The woman, who had taken this dog from the rough streets where he had lived, had tried to save him because she was unable to watch this young dog find his own food in a dumpster outside the crack house where he lived. Nobody cared that he was gone.

His fur was very thick; so thick that she had to wiggle her fingers down to feel his bony body. And as she pulled her fingers away again, they were coated in old dirt. Black and white, he was supposed to be. But on that day he was beige and dust.

He sat in the back of her car panting continuously, ears laid outward for he had lost his courage and couldn't keep them proud and tall. He sat motionless, waiting and limp.

But the thing that was the most disturbing was the look in his eyes. They were quiet eyes, sunken into his head - and they watched her. They were alive with thought. He was waiting for her to do something "to" him.

Little did he know at the time that, instead, she would "give" something to him. She gave him one of the little broken pieces of her heart.

She reached out to stroke his head and he instinctively squinched his eyes shut and dropped his head, waiting for the heavy hand. With that little bit of movement she gave him another one of the broken pieces of her heart.

She took him home and gave him a bath. She toweled him dry and brushed some order back into his coat. For that, he was grateful and even though his own heart was loaded with worms, he accepted yet another piece of her heart, for it would help to heal his own.

"Would you like some water, big boy?" She whispered to him as she set down a large bowl of cold well water. He drank it up happily. He had been dehydrated for a long time and she knew it would take him most of the week to re-hydrate.

He wanted more water - but it was gone. Ah... that's how it is, he thought to himself. But he was grateful for what he had been able to get. "Would you like some more?" and she gave him another bowl along with another little piece of her heart.

"I know that you are hungry. You don't have to find your own food anymore. Here's a big bowl of good food for you. I've added some warm water and a little piece of my heart."

Over the four months that he stayed with her, his health improved. The heart full of worms was replaced piece by piece with little bits of her loving heart. And each little piece worked a very special kind of magic.

When the warmth of love and gentle caresses are added, the little broken pieces knit together again and heal the container it resides in. That container becomes whole again.

She watched each little broken piece fill a gap in the gentle dog until his quiet eyes radiated the light from the little pieces. You see, kind words gently spoken turn the little pieces into illumination for the spirit that resides within.

He rested beside her, happy to be with her always. Never had he known such kindness, such gentle caresses; such love. His health had returned, his spirit was playful as a young dog's should be and he had learned about love.

Now his heart was full. The healing was complete. It was time to go. There was another person who had another heart that was meant to be shared with him.

So she sat shapeless on the floor because all the broken pieces of her heart were with the dog. It is difficult to sit tall when your heart is not with you. She wrapped her arms around the dog that sat with tall, proud ears for her. Lean on me, he said.

And she gave him one last thing that would keep him strong; that would keep the pieces of her heart together long after he had gone on to live his new life. She gave him her tears and bound them to the pieces with a simple statement made from the ribbons of her heart.

"I love you, Joe."

And Joe lived happily ever after.

Melissa sat on the floor, straight and tall like her mother had always admonished her to do when she was a child. Today, it would be possible. And tomorrow... it probably would be possible too. Because her mind was busy thinking about this, the next dog that lay across her lap.

Where did she get the heart to help yet another dog, you ask?

Ahhh... it came with the dog. They always bring a little bit of heart with them. And when the rescuer breathes in that little bit of heart, it quickly grows and fills the void left by the last dog.

My Foster Dog
by Unknown Author 

My foster dog stinks to high heaven.
I don't know for sure what breed he is.
His eyes are blank and hard.
He won't let me pet him and growls when I reach for him.

He has ragged scars and crusty sores on his skin.
His nails are long and his teeth, which he showed me, are stained. I sigh.
I drove two hours for this.

I carefully maneuver him so that I can stuff him in the crate. Then I heft
the crate and put it in the car. I am going home with my new foster dog.

At home I leave him in the crate till all the other dogs are in the yard. I
get him out of the crate and ask him if he wants "outside." As I lead him to
the door he hikes his leg on the wall and shows me his stained teeth again.

When we come in, he goes to the crate because that's the only safe place he
sees. I offer him food but he won't eat it if I look at him, so I turn my
back. When I come back, the food is gone.

I ask again about "outside." When we come back, I pat him before I let
him in the crate; he jerks away and runs into the crate to show me his
teeth.

The next day I decide I can't stand the stink any longer.
I lead him into the bath with cheese in my hands. His fear of me is not
quite overcome by his longing for the cheese.
His nails are long and his teeth, which he showed me, are stained. I sigh.
I drove two hours for this. 

After an attempt or two to bail out he is defeated and stands there. I
have bathed four legged bath squirters for more years than he has been
alive. His only defense was a show of his stained teeth, that did not hold
up to a face full of water.

As I wash him, it is almost as if I wash not only the stink and dirt away
but also some of the hardness. His eyes look full of sadness now. And he
looks completely pitiful as only a soap covered dog can.

I tell him that he will! feel better when he is cleaned. After the soap,
the towels are not too bad, so he lets me rub him dry.

I take him outside. He runs for joy . . . the joy of not being in the tub
and the joy of being clean.

I, the bath giver, am allowed to share the joy. He comes to me and lets me
pet him.
One week later I have a vet bill. His skin is healing. He likes for me to
pet him ( I think). I know what color he will be when his hair grows in.

I have found out he is terrified of other dogs, so I carefully introduce
him to my mildest four legged brat. It doesn't go well.

Two weeks later a new vet bill for an infection, that was missed on the
first visit. He plays with the other dogs.

Three weeks later his coat shines, he has gained weight.
He shows his clean teeth when his tongue lolls out
after he plays chase in the yard with the gang.

His eyes are soft and filled with life. He loves hugs and likes to show
off his tricks, if you have the cheese.

Someone called today and asked about him. They saw the picture I took the
first week. They asked about his personality, his history, his breed. They
asked if he was pretty. I asked them lots of questions.

I checked up on them.
I prayed.
 I said yes.

When they saw him the first time they said he was the most beautiful dog
they had ever seen.

Six months later, I got a call from his new family.
He is wonderful, smart, well behaved, and very loving.

How could someone not want him?
I told them I didn't know.
He is beautiful.
They all are.