Long before we had a baby, we had dogs. My Hubby's first love was a blond Pomeranian named Wookie who owned him rather than the other way around. She accepted me enough to sit on my lap around the camp fire (a HUGE compliment) and Hubby took that as her blessing on our relationship. We then obtained a pit bull-Boston terrier-mix we dubbed Jack Rabbit (Jacky, for short). She became my baby girl. We both had a propensity for crazy making and ridiculous behaviour in general so we bonded over our shared spaz status.
To our immense sorrow both dogs passed away unexpectedly within a few months of each other some years back. Hubby was then home alone as I was away at grad school, so we decided to adopt a couple of needy orphans very shortly after our loss. Hubby had heard about an old fellow that, "Just needed a quiet place to die." This ancient Manchester terrier apparently had only a few months left in him and was in a rescue home with something like 12 other dogs (all of them Pomeranians, as it turns out). Hubby went to meet this Ricky and they clicked, at least, the dog didn't attempt to maul him when he picked Rick up out of the cloud of Poms that enveloped Hubby when he stepped onto the property. As the Hubster visited with the crotchety old man a young loner Pom began to stand out from the crowd and much to the rescuer's surprise Snoopy, this young Pom, decided to befriend Hubby.
These 2 dogs came to us with unfortunate histories. Rick had been abandoned in Lincoln, Nebraska and had shuffled from home to home until he landed on the Central Coast of California. As far as we could tell, Rick was passed from gullible patsy to gullible patsy. One of his more charming habits is of urinating in the house to express his displeasure. He has, quite possibly, the most grotesque smelling breath on the planet. When he licks himself (as he does incessantly) I think to myself, "Who let the Komodo Dragon in the house?" He sadly suffers from severe separation anxiety, so as you move around the house, for instance to clean, he has to be within 24 inches of you. That is particularly fun when you are sleep deprived and carrying an infant in your arms across a wood floor. He is terribly uncoordinated, so he'll find himself on his back after trying desperately to change directions when you have made a snap decision to turn around. Want to close the door when you take a poop? Forget about it. After you've cleaned yourself up you are pretty much guaranteed to have a puddle of Ricky pee to clean up, which smells almost as good as his breath. If there is a God and he/she loves dogs we are definitely going to Heaven (at least Hubby is).
Snoopy has a differently tragic history. A family purchased him from a breeder and subsequently put him in a crate, where he largely remained for the first three years of his life. He played with himself or with children through the bars of his crate and the family changed the newspaper he lived on when he made a mess. He had never been outside and had never met another dog until the owners decided to give him to the rescue as they were renovating the house and no longer wanted him. Needless to say his upbringing had given him some trust issues, hence the rescuer's surprise when he took to the Hubster.
So here we are, nearly 4 years after we adopted these dogs and Ricky's still alive (and very loving and kind, despite his insanity) and Snoopy is now a well adjusted, well socialized dog. The dogs and I had grown quite close after I moved back and wrote my thesis from home. In the last months of my pregnancy I bonded as much as I could with the dogs, knowing that things were about to get challenging. I had no idea.
...Y Bebe
After MLO was born things started out difficult because we basically spent the first week at the hospital. We brought home blankies that the baby had slept with so the dogs could smell him and they seemed intrigued. Neither Hubby nor I were terribly available, though, and they definitely noticed. When we brought MLO home Ricky seemed interested, but not overly. Snoopy nearly turned himself inside out sniffing, tail wagging, trying to lick and guard the baby from the harmless, and only mildly intrigued Ricky.
For me, and much to my chagrin, things went downhill rapidly. The dogs were fed up with being ignored, and they needed some assurance that we still loved them. Ricky would cry and run loudly around the bed long before I planned on waking up. Every time I turned around he was underfoot. Snoopy would try to get between me and MLO when I tried to nurse. Dead tired, and with little patience for anyone but the baby, I started to lash out at the dogs. I would yell at them, send them away with a flailing hand or foot, I stopped smiling at them, I stopped petting them. Basically, I didn't want anything to do with them; all they did was annoy me.
I love my dogs. I can't believe how much my attitude toward them changed. Things are much better now, but the relationships are not back to pre-baby normalcy. Snoopy, despite his continued jealousy, does not lash out at me or the baby. He still protects MLO when we go camping and the baby is napping in the tent. Ricky and I still have some issues, but he has allowed MLO to pet him and even occasionally wags his tail in response to the baby. I have to really stop and work at being nice, which still surprises me.
I never expected this type of animosity on my part. Despite my bad attitude the dogs have remained largely well behaved, a testament to their love for us and their general good nature. I worry that my impatience will influence MLO and his behavior toward the dogs and that concern has served as a great motivator to get my act together. I remain embarrassed by my behavior, and recognize it as a weakness of my character. Unfortunately, when it comes right down to it I only have so much patience and MLO remains my top priority, then Hubby, then the Dogs. I have to work on growing some patience.
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| Ricky and Snoop Dog |
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