You Know You're a Rescuer if ...

Your vet thanks you for putting his kids through college. 

Your vet's staff recognizes your voice on the phone and asks “How many are you bringing in today?” 

The entrance to every room of your house has a baby gate across it but you don't have toddlers. 

Crates are considered part of the furniture. 

Your dogs are eating premium dog food and you're eating peanut butter sandwiches. 

There is a collection of leashes at every exit of your house. And a couple of spares in the car. 

You look around the living room and think “I can fit three more crates in here if I get rid of the sofa.” 

You know every rest stop and restaurant within a hundred mile radius of your home. 

You've had more canine riders in your vehicle than Greyhound has had passengers. 

Friends call your cell phone and ask where you are and how many dogs you have with you. 

You have a book of baby names but don't have children. 

You can temperament test a dog but have no idea why most of your family isn't speaking to you. 

You have more dog food bowls than dinner plates in your kitchen.

People don't ask how you are, they ask how the dogs are. 

Every time someone asks you to participate in a fundraiser you wonder if there's a way to do something similar to raise money for rescue. 

Any time somebody is giving something away free, you wonder if there's any way the rescue group can use it. 

Your heart sinks every time you receive an email or voicemail from an animal shelter. You wonder if there's any way to squeeze “just one more” into your household. 

No matter how many times you clean it, your car still has the underlying aroma of dog. 

Your credit cards are maxed out and but you haven't bought yourself anything new in months. 

Any “extra cash” you have is donated to the group. 

Every time you bring home yet another foster, the resident animals look at you like “Here we go again.” 

You feed and walk dogs in shifts. 

You've declined an invitation to go out because you've spent so much time on rescue-related business lately that you need to spend some quality time with your own dogs. 

You've been late for work because a new foster wouldn't cooperate. 

You park your car in the driveway because you have an emergency foster in your garage. 

People know you as that “dog person” 

You have let a foster dog sleep on the bed to help it adjust to it's first night in your home. 

You can successfully integrate a new dog into the household but forget the name of the person you're introducing to your friends. 

You keep a supply of extra collars, in a variety of sizes, on hand. 

You remember the name and markings of every dog that's ever been through rescue but can't recognize members of your own family. 

You can maneuver through a room full of dogs with ease but you can't walk across the street without stumbling. 

You've spent a sleepless night worrying about a dog in need of rescue. 

You know the location of every animal shelter in every county in the state.

 Your family, friends, and coworkers avoid you because they're afraid you're going to ask them to foster “just this once.” 

All of your free cell phone minutes are used for rescue-related calls. 

You have taken time off from work to pull or transport a dog. 

You handle rescue-related issues even when you're on vacation or home sick. There is no such thing as a day off. 

You have driven halfway across the state to help a dog, but you won't drive across town to pick up a pizza. 

You will prepare a nutritious, high-protein meal for a sick dog but won't open a can of chicken soup for yourself when you're feeling under the weather.

 You have cancelled appointments because a rescue emergency has come up. 

You eat more meals in your car than in your kitchen.

You drive an SUV or station wagon but don't have any kids. 

You spend your free weekends at adoption events. 

Your whole life revolves around the dogs and you wouldn't have it any other way.