Woof, Woof….and Woof
When I slide the door ajar, I can feel their hot huffing and puffing on my shins. They crowd the door and shove one another like passengers on a subway car during rush hour. The trio stampedes past me sliding into their reserved bowl location where they have a standing reservation. As they chow down on the fishy smelling kibble, I rest my head against the wall making sure there’s no kibble theft between them. Like the rest of America, I too decided a puppy would be a great idea during the pandemic, but unlike other families, our new addition would bring our canine total to three…yes you read that correctly, our family consists of three dogs, my three daughters, and me.
Dogs have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. Growing up we always had a dog nd they made our house feel complete and homey. I have owned a dog for my entire adult life and as each dog aged, I adopted a second adult dog to soften the loss for my daughters. First there was Ginger, a black Labrador retriever that relived the pain when our fluffy rescue Matty passed, and when Ginger became ill, we adopted Benji, a chocolate Labrador retriever. Benji was still young when we rescued Hercules, and I can’t recall the reason I was itching to rescue, but as I look back, I think was searching for happiness and fulfillment and who better to satisfy that desire than a floppy eared Pitbull mix who needed a home. Implementing a dog addiction as a coping mechanism seemed much more palatable than other vices.
When the pandemic sent us into isolation for months, our dogs were a welcome distraction. They forced us to get outdoors and provided many hours of love and emotional therapy that only a pet can provide. That summer my daughters began their puppy campaign. I rolled my eyes and exited the room as the conversations, or rather begging commenced. Three dogs? Are they insane? They vowed to provide daily walks, dedicated training, feeding the new puppy, on and on with the endless promises. According to their pitch, I would just sit back relax and snuggle the pup without any responsibility. This sounded like a dream. Perhaps even too good to be true. Wink, wink. Their pleading and assurances fell on deaf ears until one fateful day. It was my youngest. She texted pictures of available puppies that were her “dream dog.” The dramatic texts late at night became more frequent. There on the screen was an itty-bitty face with bat ears. The kid knows what she’s doing. I gotta give her credit for her marketing and persuasion techniques. The visual aid was making me weaker by the hour. The “Mom, my sisters are going to college. I’m going to be all alone.” She moaned as tears sprung from her eyes. My heartstrings were tugged, and tugged, and tugged. A skill my daughters have mastered knowing my heart is delicate and tender.
When I settled in the car for the three hours’ drive, I felt my stomach quake and gurgle. “What the hell am I doing” I said out loud in the empty car. For some reason the flutter in my gut nudged me. My daughter needed this dog. Not any dog, this dog, and therefore, I would drive for six hours alone to surprise her with this special puppy and the only thing I knew for sure was that I was certifiably insane. As I drove home with the pip-squeak she was so petrified, she peed, pooped, and vomited within the first mile towards home. Perfect. I called my oldest daughter at college. “Mom it’s going to be ok.” She said. My heart was racing and the audio tape in my head was on a loop. ‘What are you doing? Why are you doing this?’ but it was too late.
Through the pups howling I told myself my gut was guiding me in the right direction, and my common sense should shut up.
Over the past year I have watched my daughters revel in raising our first puppy. The excitement and joy this little girl brought our family during a difficult time has given me pause. I find time slows and I observe from afar, taking a moment to appreciate the small joys and gift that this little dog has given my girls. The laughter and silliness and love that fills my house from all three of them. Today, it is so clear that my youngest daughter needed this dog. Her big half blue, half brown eyes and bat ears melt my daughters’ stresses and bring laughter to a quiet room.
When I scan the layout of my house, I see tufts of fur floating in the corners and I dare not crouch to look under a sofa. The only place you could possibly find more tumult and wrestling could be in a home filled with boys, and the noise level can be unbearable. There’s midnight vomiting, and skirmishes over bones, but the on the bright side, I’m quite sure my alarm system is obsolete with these three on constant guard, and my kitchen floor is without a crumb, no need for a vacuum here. Daily life in our home is filled with barking at the landscapers like they are axe murderers, begging like they haven’t seen food in six months and frustration from seemly always on the wrong side of every door. For the hundredth time, in or out! There are furballs abound, outrageously stinky doggie gas wafts through the air, scratches from claws in need of a pedicure cover my gorgeous wood floor, but in exchange we get slobbery kisses, frequent visits from dog lovers, antics that lead to human belly laughs and of course furry snuggles. Dogs will make your logical brain so ‘no way,’ but my gut can’t deny the immeasurable love, healing, and unparalleled companionship they provide. If you’ll excuse me now, I think I see a yellow puddle on my dining room floor.