Fostering saves lives, but...

Fostering saves lives. But I wonder if a humane death is not the kinder alternative in most cases.
 
It goes like this: A forster parent takes in a wreck of an animal --a man-made wreck to be sure -- nurses him or her back to physical and mental health, as far as that goes. Just as the innocent dog or cat (or any other)  feels somewhat safe and starts playing, trusting, learning ... he is shuttled back to the Russian roulette of the adoption line, where a parade of stupendously dumb people and not a few criminals gawk at them, laugh at them, as if viewing a freak show. Then, once a decision is reached, it takes more documentation to buy a sofa on credit than a sentient being with cash. The net result is that those animals -- extracted just in the nick of time from neglect and cruelty or just "surrendered" by their owner -- go right back to a situation equal or worse than that from which they came. All the intervening efforts by well-meaning people were for naught. Occasionally one animal lucks out and finds that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow: The caring forever home. But I've come to the conclusion that it would drive those of us who give a damn mad if we knew the ratio of successes versus failures.
 
Nothing's wrong with foster care. But it restores an animal's condition temporarily including her faltering trust in humans  -- a trust never deserved -- setting her up for another failure. Like the condemned man who is nursed back to health at the penitentiary hospital so he can die healthy.  Even the foster parent will yank the wretch from her newly gained comfort zone when she least expects it, her eyes painedly asking:  What did I do this time?
 
Just as I returned a  foster dog named "Johnson" (a name which speaks of  being considered a "joke" from the start) to HSPCA today, as she cried "don't leave me" in her kennel and I walked away, I realized I had just added my name to the list of miscreants who betrayed her and will betray her again before it's all over.
 
I drove away in self-serving tears and at the first stoplight the bumper sticker in front of me read: "Oh God, let me be half the person my dog thinks I am." Even an atheist like me recognizes a cosmic slap in the face for bad behavior. Betrayal is a mortal sin; believer or not.