A lot of people have been up in arms the last couple of days about this article from Slate. In it, the author describes how, once her children were born, the dog that she had previously doted on like a furry baby quickly went from adored to ignored to downright hated. Why? Because he's a dog.
A friend of mine once told me that before he had a kid, he would have run into a burning building to save his cats. Now that he has a kid, he would happily drown the cats in the bathtub if it would help his son take a longer nap. Here is how I feel about that statement: Velvel, avoid the bathroom.
It’s not that I don’t love my dog. It’s just that I don’t love my dog. And I am not alone. A very nonscientific survey of almost everyone I know who had a dog and then had kids now wishes they had never got the dog. This is a near universal truth, even for parents with just one child, though I have more.
This is two paragraphs after she talks about making the dog homemade food and sitting in the backseat so he could ride shotgun on trips, all before she had kids.
As someone who reads articles about pregnancy, oh, every nine seconds, constantly scoffing at the ridiculousness of some of the things I see (If you vaccinate your baby against whooping cough, he will grow a third arm and only sleep in the closet!), I'm almost unfazed by the obvious crazymommies. That's why God invented STFU, Parents, after all. But this hit me close to home and I've been thinking about it off and on since I read it yesterday.
Like the author, we, too, have a dog that we dote on. Charlie was our wedding gift to each other and we often count that as one of the smartest things we've ever done. We thoughtfully chose the breed; at the time, we lived in an apartment, so we avoided any dogs that were large or had a ton of energy or both, no matter how much everyone loves a lab. We fake-fought for awhile between a bulldog (Matt's choice) and a corgi (mine), but after some research on the care and attitudes of both breeds, and learning just how much bulldogs are prone to gassing you out of house and home with their extreme flatulence, Matt presented me with a stuffed corgi to represent our new dog-to-be.
We first met Charlie when he was five weeks old. The breeder - a pleasant chainsmoking older woman who also served as her town's animal control officer - put the only two unclaimed puppies from the litter in a used playpen to let us choose. We weren't allowed to touch them since they hadn't been vaccinated at all (and after they were, they didn't grow extra extremities...although Charlie does like to sleep under the bed), so we put our fingers to the mesh siding. One of the roley-poley balls of fur and fat and cuteness waddled over, sniffed our hands and licked at them. That's how we met Charlie.
The first day we met Charlie.
Since then, Charlie has been as much a part of our family as either of us. He sleeps under our bed, we wake up at ungodly hours to take him on "family walks" before I have to go to work. When we go on vacation, we find ourselves drawn to random dogs we see on the street out of Charlie withdrawal. In Chicago, we came across a guy playing fetch with his well-trained cavalier spaniel puppy and recognizing my squealish reaction to the little guy, let me throw the ball for awhile. We might have scared another guy while he walked his two bulldogs. It happens.
But that being said, when I read about how the author thought of her dog before she had children, I could see the problem already. Charlie is part of our family. We love him dearly and would be heartbroken if anything happened to him. But he's a dog. We didn't make his food from scratch (we don't even feed him people food unless we're too lazy to pick up that potato chip we dropped on the kitchen floor). His spot in the car is the backseat. We brush him and clean his ears and walk him, but if we skip a day because we're too busy or something came up, we're not too worried about it. He's a dog.
The problem with the author is that, for her, her dog wasn't a dog; he was a child. And when real children came along, she didn't know how to treat him like the dog he was. Spoiling him rotten and completely ignoring him aren't your only two options for interacting with him. There's got to be something between extreme love and extreme hate.
Admittedly, we don't have children yet. Our son is due in early October. And I have no illusions that we'll be able to maintain the same level of attention we shower on Charlie that we do now. But there's a difference between only walking him a couple times a week instead of every day or not having him show off his ability to dance for treats as often and wishing he weren't part of our family anymore. When I daydream about what we'll do once we bring our son home from the hospital, Charlie is a big part of that. Will he lick milk and food off the baby's face? Sleep next to the baby's bouncer? In a few years, will he wait with us at the school bus, eagerly anticipating the arrival of his best buddy? I dream of our family walks, except now one of us is holding Charlie's leash while the other is pushing a stroller.
My first purchase for the baby. It reads "My brother is a corgi."
This pregnancy has been a difficult one. Our baby is in for a tough few months of his life, and to prepare, we've spent much of the past few months at doctors' appointments throughout the state of Massachusetts. Countless times, we've returned from these appointments mentally and emotionally drained from what we learned. Always, there are serious conversations about the future. Sometimes, there are tears. And every time, Charlie will emerge from whatever corner of the house he's hunkered down in (usually behind the toilet) and crawl into one of our laps. He's always loved affection and will sit as close to you as possible on the couch, but he rarely chooses to sit in your lap. Unless he knows you need it.
High fives will always cure what ails you.
As I read this article, all I could think about was Charlie and the amount of joy he brings to my life. How many times a day do I smile because of him, whether it's because he's done something sweet or silly or simply because he looks cute sleeping in that little corner of the couch he likes? There are six photos on my desk right now and Charlie is in three of them. I know in the months and years to come, those photos will be added to, with pictures of our smiling son. But they certainly won't be replaced.
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