About a year and a half ago, a very sweet young couple moved into the house next door to ours. They were newlyweds, full of enthusiasm and excitement over the purchase of their first house. A few months later, they added an adorable yellow lab puppy - Bella - to the mix, to the delight of my twin girls (and the consternation of my aging basenji, Allie). Like many new dog owners, especially those without kids, Bella became the focus of their lives. They bought a station wagon, took him on nice long walks in the neighborhood, and generally turned into Dog People.
Until she got pregnant.
Last night, I noticed that their house was completely dark, and that only one car was out front. Knowing that the wife was due to be induced on Thursday, I figured that their baby was finally on its way. Turns out I was right - I saw the husband this morning as he returned from the hospital "to take a shower and let the dog out".
Ah, I remember that day - the day my dog took a significant drop down my priority list. I had gotten Allie back when I was single. At the time, she was the total focus of my life. She was my emotional support, the outlet for all my maternal urges, the one who made my apartment less lonely. Even after I got married, my dog was still an extremely high priority for me. Whenever we went out of town, I would spend much of the time worrying about her, wondering how she was and whether she was sad. When I got pregnant with twins, people would tell me that my feelings about her would change after the girls were born. "No way," I thought. "They don't understand - Allie is different. She's a dog, yes, but she's a very special dog, and will always be my first child." I was admitted briefly to the hospital with pre-term labor at week 34, and all I could think about was Allie and how sad and lost she would be when I didn't return home from the hospital that afternoon.
And then my daughters were born.
Someone took care of Allie for me when I was in the hospital having the girls, and I remember well the day when she was dropped back off. It was pure chaos in the house - one newborn at home, one still in the NICU - and when she got home, my first reaction was to be annoyed. (Annoyed!) I felt guilty inside, but in my exhaustion, I couldn't help being irritated that there was now yet another helpless creature that needed my attention. Fitting in her walks, her vet visits, and, frankly, her emotional needs, was definitely a challenge that first year.
Over time, Allie's position in the house has stabilized. She's not the alpha girl anymore. She's not always - or even usually - top of mind for me. And when we go away, I don't obsess anymore about whether she misses me. As a similarly dog-obsessed friend put it when she had her son Luca, "Oh, Peanut turned into a dog the day Luca was born."
I wanted to say something to my neighbor this morning about Bella, something that might assuage the guilt that I am sure he felt as he crossed the threshold of his house this morning after being up all night with his new son. Something that would let him know that it's ok for Bella to revert back into a dog.
Nah, he'll figure it out.
Original D.C. Metro Moms post. Photo courtesy of Clownfish.
Gayle blogs about books and reading at Everyday I Write The Book.
Recent Comments