Parenting
Our Eccentric Dog: The Child Guardian
by Sarah L. Thompson
Updated: Sep. 6, 2016
Originally Published: April 29, 2015
Allow me to introduce Bella. She’s a clever, stunning (seriously, she’s quite the looker), and delightfully chaotic 21-pound mixed breed.
One Saturday morning a few years back, I was lazily lounging in bed with her—she was still just a puppy, snuggled up against me. The cheerful chirping of birds filled the air outside, and soft sunlight streamed through the curtains. Suddenly, my then-partner, Mark, burst into the room, theatrically raising his hand like he was wielding a knife, channeling his inner Anthony Perkins from Psycho.
Bella sprang up, positioning herself protectively on my neck, and barked ferociously for the first time in her life. She sounded like a fierce Doberman. Her growls faded once she recognized Mark, but then we were hit by an unpleasant odor. Looking around, we discovered the source: a horizontal splatter of dog waste smeared across the wall.
“Guess who’s cleaning that up,” I said, getting out of bed.
I felt conflicted about the situation. On one hand, I was proud of Bella for showing her protective instincts, but on the other, it was clear she had been so startled that she had an accident. After a few days, I moved on from the incident. Bella had always been a bit quirky, shy around unfamiliar faces, but it seemed more like her personality than an issue. Plus, she was incredibly intelligent and eager to learn. After mastering basic commands, we taught her to fetch and play Frisbee like a champ. I even taught her to roll over, play dead, and jump into a large tote bag that initially scared her—another oddity—so I could take her shopping.
Smart or not, by the time my daughter, Lily, arrived nearly two years later, Bella had accumulated quite the list of eccentricities. She was terrified of dumpsters, tents, and flags. At dog parks, she ignored her fellow canines, fixated solely on her Frisbee.
Even more concerning was that her years of nervousness had morphed into a dominant form of protectiveness. She barked and lunged at people, even those she knew, like our neighbors and friends. While we could manage, her behavior was intimidating to new visitors and children, making her seem rather unfriendly. Despite our efforts to train her, Bella refused to obey the simple command of “Quiet!”
As our daughter, now 5, entered a particularly difficult phase of being scared of monsters and the dark, our once-peaceful evenings were disrupted. Gone were the days of easy tuck-ins and calm parental activities (mostly binge-watching TV, but occasionally some intimate moments as well).
One day, Mark said, “Do you realize Lily has been asking why she has to sleep alone when the rest of us are together—even Bella?” He had a point—it was an obvious injustice. He paused, then proposed, “What if we let Bella sleep with her?”
We braced ourselves for a struggle, but when we called Bella to Lily’s room, she curled up in her dog bed as if she understood that her new duty was to protect Lily. They both slept soundly through the night, restoring some peace to our evenings for over six months.
However, a couple of weeks ago, just minutes after we closed Lily’s door, Bella started whining, scratching at the door, and emitting high-pitched yelps.
“Mommy! Daddy!” Lily called. “Bella won’t let me sleep.” We sighed. “We know, sweetheart. Bella is just going through some… issues.” Translation: We were exhausted. Truthfully, we felt defeated, juggling work and caring for Lily.
Then, Mark had another brilliant idea. He told Lily, “If Bella gets out of her bed tonight and scratches at the door, I want you to firmly tell her to go back to bed.”
“But she won’t listen to me,” Lily protested.
“She will if you’re assertive,” I reassured her.
“Okayyy,” she replied, sounding doubtful.
Minutes later, Mark and I settled into the living room with some bourbon, anxiously awaiting Bella’s antics. When they began, we leaned into the monitor, holding our breath. Then we heard Lily’s sweet yet assertive voice: “Bella, go to your bed. Go to your bed. Stay.”
And remarkably, Bella complied.
We’re still uncertain what triggered Bella’s latest episode. Living with her is a roller coaster of chaos and comfort. In the end, it seems she also needed something from us. Bella had done such a wonderful job keeping Lily safe—who would’ve thought she needed Lily to return the favor?
This article was originally published on April 29, 2015.
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Summary:
In this humorous and heartfelt narrative, Sarah recounts her experience with Bella, her quirky dog who unexpectedly became a protector for her daughter, Lily. Initially, Bella exhibited some alarming behaviors, but with patience and clever solutions, she learned to coexist peacefully with Lily. The story highlights the challenges of parenting, the complexities of pet ownership, and the unexpected ways that love and protection can manifest in family dynamics.