When my 14-year-old son couldn’t land a summer job — or even a volunteering gig — I worried the season would pass him by with no sense of purpose, no high school volunteer hours, and nothing to anchor his days other than endlessly watching Minecraft videos.
I wasn’t fixated on him earning a paycheck. What mattered more was finding something meaningful to do, something that would build confidence and help him grow. He tried. He applied to several jobs online — the public library, a local physiotherapy clinic, a few summer camps — but never heard back. And he wasn’t confident enough to walk into stores and ask for jobs in person.
We eventually had a crazy idea, and signed up to foster a rescue puppy.
A foster puppy offered a unique experience
I reached out to Niagara Dog Rescue, a local nonprofit that places dogs in temporary homes. I asked if we could foster a puppy, just for a short time, enough for him to earn his community service hours and feel like he was doing something worthwhile. They agreed.
We already had a family dog, a rescue named Cookie who joined us 18 months ago. At the time, my son was still figuring out how to be around dogs. He didn’t really know how to care for Cookie, and in many ways, she trained him: teaching him patience, boundaries, and how to communicate without words.
This time, he’d be the one in charge.
Mirage offered a challenge
The puppy they placed with us was named Mirage. She was a sloppy, black-furred bundle of nervous energy that clung to my son on the first day, partly out of fear, partly out of curiosity. He didn’t mind. He scooped her up, showed her around the backyard, and promised her she’d be safe.
That first week was no walk in the park — even though we took plenty of them together. Mirage wasn’t house trained and although crate-trained, she didn’t sleep through the night.
She howled in the dark, chewed anything she could find, and had more energy than the rest of us combined. But my son never once suggested we return her early. Forget apps, Mirage was his new alarm system, going off every morning at 5:30 a.m. with a bark that couldn’t be ignored.
He played with her for hours, helped her learn leash manners, and taught her basic commands using treats and encouragement. He also cleaned up her pee and poop without complaint, sometimes before the rest of us were even awake. It wasn’t glamorous, but he handled it like someone who understood that care isn’t always cute.
When it was time to say goodbye — it wasn’t
After 10 days, I assumed our time with Mirage was over. We’d kept up our end of the deal: my son had logged his required school hours, and Mirage had become calmer, more confident, and undeniably attached to him.
But just before we were scheduled to return her, the rescue organization contacted us again. They asked if we’d be willing to keep her a little longer, until the end of the summer.
When I told my son, he jumped up and shouted, “Yes!” He didn’t even ask if it meant more credit. That had stopped mattering.
With Mirage’s stay extended, he came up with a new arrangement: he and his 12-year-old brother would take turns sleeping with the dogs. That way, they could alternate early morning duties — one waking up with Mirage at 5:30 a.m., while the other got to sleep in.
His brother had never been especially great at taking responsibility — he was more the comic relief than the caregiver in our household. But with Mirage, something shifted. He rose to the occasion, taking initiative and learning what it meant to be part of a team. It wasn’t just about chores, it became shared rhythm between the brothers who were both learning what it means to show up for someone else.
He didn’t earn a paycheck, but he got something better
Watching my son care for Mirage taught me a lot, not just about him, but about how we think about work, especially for young people.
He didn’t earn a paycheck this summer. He didn’t learn to use a cash register or stock shelves. But he did learn how to wake up before he wanted to. He learned to be calm when someone else was freaking out. He learned that sometimes, someone else’s needs come before your own, even if that someone is a teething puppy.
Most importantly, he gained a quiet kind of pride. Not the résumé-building kind. The kind that comes from being trusted and showing you’re worthy of it.
Mirage is still with us for now, but she has been adopted. She’ll be picked up later this month to go to her forever home. When I told my son, he sat quietly for a moment, then smiled and said, “I hope they have a big backyard,” and added, “I am going to miss her terribly.”
For all the talk about Gen Z and Gen Alpha being screen-addicted or unmotivated, I saw something completely different this summer: a teenager who showed up — every day — for something that couldn’t thank him with money, only love.
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