To The Family Dog

You didn’t used to be a family dog. You used to be just our dog, my husband’s and mine. We bought you a week after we bought our first house together, recently married, practically babies ourselves at the ages of 24 and 23. We didn’t even have dog food the night we took you home. But you trusted us to take care of you, and we did. For those first few years you slept on our bed and traveled with us.

We brushed your teeth, made sure your nails were trimmed, brushed you, and bathed you regularly. I cooked you chicken and rice when you got an upset stomach…which was a lot. We cuddled you, took pictures of you, walked you, trained you, and always beamed when strangers would stop and say, “Oh, she’s such a pretty dog!”  (Even though you’re a he.)

You were at our feet when I told my husband he was going to be a father for the first time, and looked on as we held each other and cried from pure joy. You loved the extra naps we took when I was exhausted from the first trimester. When I was eight days past my due date, you snuggled up to me on the bed when contractions started. And when we left for the hospital, you looked on, your eyes barely clearing the window sill, watching as we backed out of the driveway.

When we came home a day later, you ran to greet us like you always did. We put the car seat up on the table and rubbed your fuzzy ears, but once our firstborn started squawking, your ears perked up and your head cocked…your life had changed, too.

You’ve welcomed home three new babies now. You make them smile just by entering their view at a few months old, get them to giggle by sneaking in a few kisses here and there, and produce all-out shrieks when we hold them on your back like they’re riding a horse. You’re their favorite toy from the very beginning, my go-to when I need to stretch time out a bit until the next nap.

You’ve been kicked out of our bed for years now. We’ve moved your own bed into four different rooms now, and you always oblige, just happy to have a spot to cozy up in. You’re consistent and unwavering, tail always wagging first thing in the morning when my feet hit the floor, now surrounded by two other sets of little tiny feet, and another set dangling by my hip.

You used to lunge for any drop of food from the table, and now you don’t even blink at Goldfish crackers, Cheerios and crumbs of anything else you deem insignificant, yet you’re always there. Waiting, patient, and expectant.

You don’t get walked every day like you used to, but you’re always ready when I ask if you want to go, taking your place alongside the stroller, next to little hands wanting to help hold your leash.

You shed too much, you bark at the mailman during naptime, and even though you can’t jump into the back of the car by yourself you sure can get onto the forbidden couch when I’m not around.

But you’re the softest lovie, the biggest pillow, and the best friend.

You’ll be remembered as my littles’ first dog, and they don’t know it yet, but they’ll compare every other dog they ever have to you, never quite measuring up. You’ve calmed fears, ridden along to preschool pick-up, and put up with ear pulls, tail pulls, bear hugs and full-on tackles by my well-meaning babies.

When you were just “our” dog, you taught us how to take care of something other than ourselves. When you became the family dog, you showed us that what was happening in our hearts had been in yours all along…unconditional love.