This morning, as I walked down the stairs and headed towards the kitchen to click on the kettle and feed the dog, I felt frustrated as I tripped over dog toys, slipped in a puddle made by an upturned water bowl, and swore because I couldn’t find the can opener. Why am I like this? Because we are completely dog-owned.
Once the pet fairies had wound their way with Jake into our lives, there came weeks of cleaning up mess and sitting up with a sick puppy. I’ve quipped to friends that having a toddler on a sugar rush is easier than having a rescue puppy, but perhaps I’ve been a little hasty.
Having an exuberant canine as a pet is remarkably similar to having a toddler. If it’s quiet in the house, they’re either napping or doing something they’re not supposed to.
If Jake is hungry or displeased, he will inform us, directly and often at inappropriate times, including at 3am, when I’m in the middle of a wonderfully intense dream. He makes no apologies, which is something I admire in a world that is infinitely trying to corner us into conforming.
Now that he’s all grown up, has been neutered and is settling into “being a dog” rather than a nutjob puppy, I’ve noticed a slight change in our family dynamics. He’s become more of an equal, rather than a kid, but that doesn’t preclude him from bouncing around the house like he just won the lottery and his prize was a bundle of biltong.
It’s almost like he grew into being a toddler, and then plateaued. He’ll probably never grow up, leave home and check in with me on Sundays, but he’ll be sticking by our side until he is a wise old canine. I really like that.
In the evenings, as we put my daughter to bed, Jake accompanies us into her room. Most evenings, he settles in there as she falls asleep and he keeps watch over her. Sometimes, he’s a nuisance, and will make a noise or stomp around. Other evenings, he just curls up and watches her fall asleep, like a furry guardian who takes his duties very seriously.
While adjusting to the dog-owned life has been difficult and exhausting at times, I’ve come to realise we were always meant to be a family of four. It’s just that one of us has fur.
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