Comparing raising kids to raising dogs

Making comparisons between raising kids and raising dogs offends some people…pretty much only people with kids and no dogs. But there truly are similarities. Sure, I know the differences and I’m not attempting to use any of the same rules with my kids as my dogs. But some of the main similarities at this point in my relationship with Josh and Joey are in my heart.

I’ve had dogs that I considered “mine” since I was in the 4th grade. That’s when we got Creampuff. I remember loving Creampuff from the first day we had her. We were inseparable, like a little girl and her puppy should be. Unfortunately, a few years later she went in the backyard and picked up a toad in her mouth. I saw this and it grossed me out so much I wouldn’t let her lick me and I wouldn’t play with her anymore. Having lost her best friend, she started hanging out with Mom and they became the best friends Creampuff and I had been. When I left for college, I hardly missed her because I’d pushed her so far away at that point. It’s really sad looking back at it now. Plus, it points out my ability to take something that is second nature to a dog and make it into a relationship destroying event.

In college, I got a cat that I named Whiskey. Cute name for a cat, but seriously makes me wonder about my priorities at that point. Nonetheless, after I graduated and once she was about 3 years old, I got rid of her because she wouldn’t stop peeing on the carpet of my apartment. I was moving into a new apartment and I’d lost my entire deposit which at that point I really couldn’t afford. I put an ad in the Greensheet. Yes that’s how long ago this was…the only place to put an ad was in an actual newspaper. Looking back at this, it looks like a sound decision to get rid of Whiskey because she was just too costly…well, until you start making the comparison of caring for pets to caring for children. Josh has been peeing in all sorts of inappropriate places lately. But, all I have for him is compassion and concern, no desire to put an ad in the Greensheet.

Not long after I got rid of Whiskey, I went on a search for a black Pomeranian and found Nicky. For Nicky’s first year, we battled and we bonded. I desperately wanted us to be close but I had to discipline him so much it was difficult. First he needed to be housetrained, and then he kept running out the front door and taking me on wild goose chases…almost literally…except he wasn’t a goose. I would get so frustrated with him that I would sit and cry and we didn’t yet have love to offset the frustration. I got a dog gate and put him in the kitchen and he got out. I created a wall that was at least 4 feet tall and he got out. He learned to jump onto the kitchen counter and go over the bar area. He was a little nightmare until the day he turned one year old. I had told him many times that people kept telling me he would grow out of all of this when he turned one. I guess he was listening because on that very day, he stopped chewing everything up and he was housetrained and he became my best friend. We loved each other like I had always dreamed of. Nicky stuck with me through sixteen years of life…we got married together…we got divorced together…we moved to California and then back to Texas. Nicky’s life story defined loyalty and self-sacrifice. He would have fought a bear to protect me if he had to.

About 6 months after Nicky passed away, I went to the shelters looking for a new puppy. A shy 15 lb, 4 month old, red puppy picked me. The shelter volunteer really wanted me to take another dog, but I couldn’t pay attention to the other dog because this little one kept wagging his tail in his water dish and flicking me with water. When I took him out of his cage to play with him, he climbed up and around my neck and hid under my hair. Then he stayed so very still as if he thought I might forget he was there and accidentally take him home. This was obviously my dog. I named him Cooper. On the way home, we went by PetsMart for a leash and collar. Cooper had no idea how to walk on the floor inside the store so he kept trying to climb back up my leg. When I put him in the cart, he was fine. Once we got home to my apartment, he jumped from the front door across the tile to the carpet, laid down and slept for about 3 days. When he woke up, we started getting to know each other. As long as I was with him, he was sweet and playful and fun. But if I was even in the next room, he methodically destroyed my stuff. He dug plants out of their pots along with all the dirt and he chewed on walls. He was so stressed out that he just didn’t know what to do to calm himself down. I’ll never forget the day I came in from being at the gym for an hour to find that Cooper had eaten the couch…not eaten a pillow, but gone straight into the meat of the couch and taken out the contents. I didn’t understand him and I didn’t know what to do to help him…but he loved me from the moment he came into my life.

Cooper’s trainer suggested getting a second dog might help calm him down since then he wouldn’t be alone. So, after buying a house where we could all live, Cooper and I both went back to the shelter to pick out a second dog. I left the decision up to Cooper since he would have to spend all of his time with the new dog. Cooper chose an adorable black and white Lab/Heeler mix that was fluffy and playful. He was about 20 pounds and they thought he was about 4 months old. They had estimated he’d grow to be around 40-60 pounds. Cooper was pushing 40 pounds at that point, so I thought that would be a good pairing. This one I named Quincy.

Having Quincy and just becoming more mature both contributed to Cooper’s growing calmness, but he’s still a jumpy fragile soul at times. Where Cooper loved me from the first moment, Quincy loved Cooper…but rolled his eyes at me a lot. Quincy is a total Bubba dog. He eats well more than his share…he burps and farts…he doesn’t like other dogs to see him getting hugs and kisses and he looks at me like “Mom” when they do. On the other hand, he follows me everywhere and sleeps right next to me every night. It’s like he loves me, but he’d rather not talk about it. And, speaking of eating, all of the dogs I’ve known in the past ate when they were hungry and then stopped. Quincy ate and ate and ate…until he hit 120 pounds. He’s now on a strict diet and exercise program. He’s gotten down to about 110 and we’re aiming for 100. He’s much bigger than the shelter had estimated, but I love every pound of him.

For the first 6 months or so, I remember begging Quincy to snuggle with me, to trust me, to love me. I had an idea of what that would look like and feel like and Quincy had other plans. It just broke my heart that he wouldn’t react to me as I expected. When I finally started really paying attention to him and letting us work out our own personal relationship between just the two of us, is when that wall started coming down. It took patience and focus but we are tight now. What I have are two dogs with completely different personalities and interests and I’ve built two entirely different relationships with them.

Josh and Joey are both in that stage with the dogs of desperately wanting the love and trust that they see Cooper and Quincy have with me. Josh will follow Cooper around saying “I just want to pet you. Please stop so I can pet you” while he’s frightening Cooper so Cooper keeps going. Joey often acts like he doesn’t care because he’s afraid of the rejection that is inevitable at first. Josh begs them to sleep with him at night and he’s baffled at why they won’t. I love when I see them all playing together. And it breaks my heart to watch the boys go through this confusing process, but I’m confident that they’ll get through it and they will all be inseparable friends.

As far as comparing Josh and Joey to Cooper and Quincy there are similarities all around. But my bigger point was in the feeling in my heart of wanting to get to the part where we feel comfortable and we feel love and we feel trust…the fear that we may not get there and the confidence that we will…the stubbornness that I won’t let a chewed up couch or the screaming of some very unpleasant words cause a permanent rift between us… the confusion when I can tell they are going through something and they can’t tell me what it is. Yet it really boils down to the fact that all three of us, or even all five of us, just want to be loved.