Parenting
My partner and I welcomed a puppy into our home almost immediately after returning from our honeymoon. She wasn’t a newborn, but she was just about a year old. Bella was the perfect fit for a young couple looking for something to love and care for. She could perform tricks, was already house-trained, and had an undeniable charm. While we were never entirely sure of her breed, she was undeniably the right dog for us.
Bella and I had a harmonious relationship, but my partner was her true favorite. The moment he entered the house, I became invisible. That was fine with me; Bella and I had a mutual agreement. She would chase down every bug that dared to invade our home, and I would give her a gentle pat and let her curl up at the foot of our bed. She spent her life with us and eventually became a beloved companion to our two little girls. Sadly, three years ago, we had to say goodbye on a sunny December afternoon, laying her to rest beneath her favorite tree, right by the bird feeder.
When I reminisce about Bella now that she’s gone, I sometimes portray her as the perfect, obedient dog. But don’t be fooled by my nostalgia. Bella could be a whirlwind of chaos, especially when she was young and brimming with energy. She was utterly exhausting!
When my eldest daughter was around eighteen months old, my partner had to leave for military training for eight long months. During that time, my baby and I stayed with my best friend’s family, planning to find a new home once he returned. With my partner away, Bella decided to throw all her training out the window, treating those months as her own personal rumspringa. In her eyes, she was now the queen of her domain, and she was loving every minute of it.
One lovely summer evening, I thought it would be a delightful treat to take Bella for a ride to my parents’ house. She adored car rides, and I loved her, despite her mischievous nature. What could possibly go wrong?
When it was time to leave, I felt like the epitome of a young mother in control. I had my adorable child on my hip, a perfectly packed diaper bag slung over my shoulder, and my loyal dog trotting beside me. Who needs a leash? We were just walking to the car, where Bella would hop into the passenger seat like she always did. I was a confident military spouse, managing everything at home while my partner served. I was humming, “I am strong. I am invincible. I am woman.” I had everything under control.
But all of that confidence came crashing down the moment I opened the car door. Bella spotted a neighbor walking his dogs, who seemed to be a mile away, and suddenly decided to abandon all her training. She took off like a rocket, barking with glee.
The neighbor was walking a massive black pit bull and a fluffy cocker spaniel, and for a brief moment, my heart raced. The cocker might be manageable, but that giant pit bull could easily overpower Bella. Yet, instead of reacting to my wild dog, both of the other dogs just sat down beside their owner, staring at Bella as if she had lost her mind. This is what well-trained dogs do, I guess. I wouldn’t know; my dog was Bella, who was anything but well-behaved.
With a baby still in my arms, I realized I had to chase after my speeding dog. So, I did what any reasonable mother would do: I unceremoniously dropped my baby into her car seat without buckling her in and sprinted after Bella. My little one stood up and watched from the window as I, who hadn’t run since high school gym class, dashed down the street in a pair of flimsy flip-flops.
I was dressed in a long shirt over leggings, which seemed like appropriate athletic gear, but these leggings were from my pregnancy days and the elastic had definitely seen better times. Just a few steps into my mad dash, my pants began to slide down, taking my underwear along for the ride.
To paint the scene: We had a short-legged brindle mutt barking furiously, racing toward a bewildered neighbor, who was simply trying to walk his impeccably trained dogs. Meanwhile, a plus-sized woman was awkwardly running after her dog, one hand desperately holding up her pants, the other waving and shouting, “She’s friendly! She got away from me! I’m so sorry! Bella! Come back! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!”
As if this spectacle wasn’t humiliating enough, my partner decided this would be a great time to call me from his dorm. My diaper bag erupted with his personalized ringtone—an utterly ridiculous reggae tune blaring, “It’s your husband, ooh yeah. Yes, your husband is trying to get through.”
However, there was a small silver lining. After months of phone calls and FaceTime sessions with that ridiculous ringtone, Bella had associated the sound with the one person she would listen to—my partner. Just as I was about to lose all hope, Bella halted mid-chase, turned around, and trotted back to me, hopping into the car as if nothing had happened. The neighbor was still a few houses down, slowly walking his well-behaved dogs, likely trying to process the chaos he had just witnessed.
I quickly buckled my daughter back in, jumped in the car, and decided it was best to speed away before the neighbor could express his displeasure. That’s when I realized I had left the car keys inside the house. So much for being that confident woman who had it all figured out.
I trudged back into the house, my head hung low in shame, and just as I stepped outside again, I crossed paths with the neighbor. I mumbled another apology and called my partner to inform him that his beloved dog was, in fact, a complete troublemaker.
To top it all off, this chaos occurred on August 26th—National Dog Day. Bella may not have been perfect, but oh boy, she certainly knew how to celebrate!
For more relatable parenting stories, check out this other blog post on home insemination.
If you’re looking for insights on family-building options, this resource is an excellent place to start.