A letter to my dogs:
I’m writing this letter as we sit and hide in the playroom tent as the vicious pirates pillage the room around us (aka Captain Threeager and his First Mate Terrible Two). I can see in your faces that you are pleading with me to send them away (like a nice farm somewhere?). I can see you asking, “Why do we have to keep them again?” This wasn’t part of the original deal, I know. No tail pulling, no being chased with a plastic sword, and no sticky syrupy hands. Three years ago it was just us and all the love and cuddles possible. You could close your eyes and take a nap on the couch without the worry of a surprise ninja attack. Before you were able to enjoy the warm sunshine outside without someone chocking you with a trip of the leash. You could walk down the hallway without the worry of being hit by a big wheel. Now there are stuffed animals everywhere that you get yelled at if you chew, blankets and clothes left on the floor that you can’t sleep in, and food that you can’t eat because you are not allowed to snatch it out of their tiny unsuspecting hands.
There are still head scratches and cuddles but they are fewer and farther between. Our peaceful walks around the block have been replaced with chases around the dining room. I know you don’t know care that you look like the dog from Toy Story but I know you’re tired of Buzz Lightyear and Woody trying to hitch a ride. I’m sorry that your daily requests for a full belly rub are mainly met with a lazy few pats. And yes I feel bad that the minute you find a comfortable seat of my lap I have to get up and find the missing blankie or baba that always seem lost.
I remember laughing at the idea that once the baby was born, you would no longer be my babies. I have always believed that the world is divided between baby or animal people and I was proudly in the latter. I would mindlessly scroll past pictures of a kid’s first birthday party to ‘like’ a random picture of a dog eating ice cream. It wasn’t a malicious thing, kids just really weren’t my thing (insert shrug emoji) . There was no way that I was going to let that happen. But the change happened without even realizing it. My camera roll filled up with pictures of the baby getting a bath, having tummy time, and eating his first food. The only time you guys made it in a photo, was if a kid was standing in front of you.
So I wanted to say that I’m sorry I tripped over you during those blurry late night feedings. I know most days I can’t remember when I took you out last or if you have already been fed. I know it doesn’t make sense that the kids would rather play with a pretend or stuffed dog when you are right there with open heart and paws. I just wish I could find a way to say sorry for the little beasts running around in a way that you could understand. I know it’s not all bad, I mean the endless supply of food from the high chairs can make up for some of the lack of walks.
So to my original fur babies: Thank you. Thank you for every little nuzzle and every wag of your tail. Thank you for the late night cuddles and your inability to say momma a hundred times in a row. Thank you for putting up with the children and let’s be honest, not biting them every time they trip on you. But most importantly thank you for the unconditional love. For the nights when I feel like a terrible mother, wife, or friend you guys are just always so happy to just be with me. Sometimes that’s all I look forward to at the end of the day. Although I can’t promise you my undivided attention during the day, I promise you will always have a warm spot in the bed waiting for you each night.
The Little Tyrants Mama