“I could never have children of my own,” I remark this to myself whenever I become mesmerized by the sweetness of a new, unspoiled life.
Aside from the physiological sacrifice, my fear of motherhood stems from the thought of having to perform complete, ’round-the-clock selflessness.
So, naturally, I bought a 3-month-old puppy without realizing the irony of my actions.
It’s just not the same, right? Puppies can’t talk back (false), they don’t have tantrums (false), they’re easier to potty train (SUPER false), and they’re too cute to stay mad at (answer pending).
Puppies won’t ask me for a weekly allowance or storm off to their bedrooms when I try to implement what’s best for them, but I would be lying if I said training a puppy has been as fun as I had anticipated.
Parents warn their hopeful, starry-eyed children that the puppy they desire will be a “big responsibility” and speak cautionary tales about how they will have to “pick up a lot of poop,” in an attempt to dissuade their children and avoid the awkward, but painfully honest, truth: raising another person (or should I say, fur-son) through infancy is not on their to-do list. It certainly wasn’t on mine.
I thought I signed up for puppy kisses, overwhelming amounts of Kodak moments, and having to “pick up a lot of poop.”
Instead? I plunged directly into my worst fear: ’round-the-clock selflessness.
Eating in peace? Not anymore. Leaving your shoes by the front door? Fat chance. Letting your hair down, literally? Not advised. Going to the bathroom without getting followed? Nope. Getting more than 15 minutes of down time to yourself? Pure fantasy.
They’re never tired when you’re tired, potty training is a consistent series of one step forward, three steps back, and their overzealous “play” biting begins to mimic the whining of a 4-year-old toddler whose favorite word is “mommy” on an infinite loop.
I’ve only been a dog mom for a week and a half and I’m exhausted. Mothers say the trick is to nap when your child naps, but how can I look away from something this sweet?
I may have lost a few personal freedoms, like taking long showers and watching a movie in peace, but I’ve gained a great deal of things.
I wake every morning to find my fur-son sitting patiently outside my door. When I’m not around, he puts his life on PAWuse (sorry) and waits for me so I won’t miss an important moment.
I also have my own personal foot-warmer. As you can see above, his favorite place to nap is on top of my feet—I’ve learned this is a dog’s way of “claiming” their human.
Most importantly, I’ve gained a sense of heart-warming pride. Watching him succeed, whether he learns a new trick or is simply growing up as he should, gives me satisfaction knowing I’ve been able to make a difference in his life.
I guess (dog) motherhood isn’t such a bad reality after all.