Blog + Dog, In My Own Words, Lifestyle

Happy National Puppy Day from A Pack Mom

Cuddling with three puppies and their mama. The others are somewhere doing something. I’m very attentive, I know.

Yesterday was National Puppy Day, and I missed it. Well, I watched everyone else post pictures about their puppies. I was lazy and didn’t. 

The thing is, every day is puppy day in my house. Not only do I have four actual puppies, I have two older girls too. It’s a zoo. It’s chaos. It’s a furtacular event always. There is never a moment, big or small, that does not have something to do with the dogs. I can attribute that to their being enormous, multitudinous, and very attached to me. I go nowhere alone ever, and I love it. 

Even as I write this, I have one asleep on each foot, two are upside down tug-o-warring, one is asleep in their box for naughty reasons, and a sixth is standing up on my wingback chair staring out the window in case of God knows what. That means there are five very big dogs in my small office. It’s wonderful. This is not a complaint. This is a brag. My office is better than your office. 

A year ago, I had a home filled with Beau, the original rescue, Tess, the stray mama, and thirteen three week old puppies. I was determined to keep zero of the puppies. Life and a man had a completely opposing world view of what would happen, and I lost. Fast forward through the poop, tears, puppy breath, teething, potty training to today: I am a homeowner with a house full of six much bigger than expected dogs. 

I would love to tell you this life is easy. It is not. 

Having six dogs sounds amazing, and it is. Having six dogs sounds hard, and it is. Having six dogs sounds a little crazy, and it most certainly is. It was a choice and a commitment. It was a commitment to them and a commitment to Dylan, my pawtner in parenting. We made a commitment to each of our dogs to love, respect, raise, and maintain them until their last breaths, no take backsies. We made a commitment to one another that no matter what transpires between us, we will raise them together; we will not separate them; we will not keep them from the one another; we will share expenses; we will carry the burden; we will lean on the other when things are hard; and we will always create rules and boundaries together for them, no take backsies. Adopting one dog four years ago (wow) connected us in a more concrete way, making it more complicated if things went to go awry. Adding five more rescues to that equation… well, much, much, much more of a concrete connection. Worth it, but a challenge. 

There are more than just the challenges of having six dogs. We did it in a COVID world where both our incomes and lives have been impacted very, very much. Tess was incredibly sick and pregnant when I picked her up off the street. Getting her healthy was expensive and heartbreaking. The puppies have some special needs, which makes it expensive and a bit complicated at times. (No complaint. I knew what I was getting into.) The reality is: VETS ARE EXPENSIVE. Their health is non-negotiable. We went without so they could be taken care of. We took on debt to take them to the ER. We buy their dog food first before our groceries. COVID made things much tighter, but it’s worth it. 

On top of it, a rescue already existed in this home. Beau was the first priority. We made a decision to foster Tess and the puppies. We knew we wanted to keep Tess, but if the rescue in Beau couldn’t handle being in a multiple dog household, we would have made the very hard decision to find Tess and all the puppies their furever homes. Turns out Beau LOVED Tess immediately. They were inseparable and best buds from the beginning. They do everything together and literally hug every morning when they wake up. Beau also loves the puppies. It was an adjustment, but they adore her and she loves to play with them. But she still had to figure out how to be top dog, get attention, and cope with the fact she was no longer the sun, moon, and universe in two people’s worlds. She had to learn to share: time, food, love, attention, bed. Just kidding, she never learned how to share bed; she’s the only one that always sleeps in bed. Some of her neurosis were exacerbated at first, but with love, time, and extra attention, she’s back to her normal neurotic self. 

Is it a breeze now? Fuck no. 

It’s still hard. They’re still young. They’re still growing and learning and making mistakes and getting on each others’ nerves. Most days are amazing, but there are some days I cry. Being a dog parent to one is hard. Being a dog parent to six is still hard. Struggle is a part of taking care of and living with another being, human or not. The happiness outweighs all the negatives, but it’s work. 

It. Is. A. Lot. Of. Work. 

It takes a lot of work just to afford to maintain them and keep them healthy. It takes a lot of emotional work to stay calm in the chaos because I’m not going to fuck up my dogs’ emotional wellbeing with an inability to handle the fact they’re just being puppies. I do my best. Sometimes I fail. That’s okay. They love me anyways. They know they’re safe. They’re in the only home they’ve ever known with the only parents they’ve ever known being loved in the only way they’ve ever known: unconditionally, patiently, enthusiastically, and constantly.

My six dogs have been the catalyst for DRASTIC life changes over the last year, and I’m okay with that. Everything is for the better even when it has hurt like hell. They are and will be my number one priority until the day they die. I took on this responsibility, and no matter how hard it was, is, or will be, I chose to make their lives the very best I can. 

If you ever find yourself in my home, know that you are watching six pieces of my heart and the very best of me walk around our home.

In honor of trying to be the very best pawrent I can be. I’m including six inspiration posters I created from things I’ve said to my dogs in my very best high pitched and happy-even-though-my-world-is-chaos-and-stressful dog parent voice:

bisous und обьятий,
RaeAnna, Beau, Tessa, 
Knight, Duke, Makeda, + Bear

Blog + Dog

Closet Anxiety Attack

Just so you know, these pictures were taken this morning. She was in a very good mood with a wagging tail and being bribed with treats. Lots of treats. I would never invade her privacy or exploit her during an anxiety attack. She’s very good at putting on the sad puppy eyes for treats; it’s a boxer trait.

DSC_1642-01.jpeg
Sometimes, the only place to go is the closet.

Beau is a rescue dog. Honestly, she is the best dog I have ever had, and there have been a more than a few. I brought her home almost two years ago. The first year was a little rough, but so worth it.

As a rescue, she has a lot of idiosyncrasies. With time, she has gotten more comfortable and less tightly wound. The evidence of her struggle during her formative years is always evident, though. The kitchen is a difficult place for her. Everything is terrifying. I love being in the kitchen, so we have bad days sometimes. Usually, she sits on the couch watching me or curled up on my feet on a comfy rug.

Last week, I was cooking dinner in the kitchen like I usually do. Beau was sitting next to me on her rug. Her back leaned up against my calf. I had one of the bottom kitchen cabinet doors open to grab a pan out; it was situated in front of my legs. The stove made a clicking noise every once in awhile, which is usual. This day, the clicking noise triggered something in Beau. I felt her start to shake. Her shaking became stronger over the next minute. She stood up and pushed her way between my legs crawling into the cabinet. I stopped everything I was doing to sit down next to her.

201811077590490183089028625.jpg
Giving the camera her signature side eye.

I put her sweater on her because it helps make her feel safe. I held onto her tight. Like in people, when there is weight pressed on her body, it help calms her anxiety. She likes to be in enclosed spaces where nothing can sneak up on her. As someone with PTSD, I understand this more than she knows.

She crawled out of the kitchen cabinet shaking violently and ran to the closet. She crawled as far into the corner as she could under all the clothes and on top of the shoes. Luckily, I managed to get the shoes out from under her. We sat there for twenty minutes. She shook and shook and shook. She cried. I held onto her. She was so scared. She even peed a little; it’s not abnormal during her severe anxiety attacks. It breaks my heart every time. She was curled into my body as far as she could. We both cried in our own ways. Her breathing started to quicken, and I had to help slow it down. Her shaking slowly eased up.

When she started to pace, I tried to find somewhere else we could sit down. She was not comfortable anywhere in the house. So we went outside. Beau needed to run the shakes off. So we ran and ran and ran around the apartment complex until her tail started to wag again.

Her anxiety attacks have become a rarity now. They happen every few months instead of every few days. They don’t usually last more than a few minutes, but this one was a particularly bad one and lasted over an hour. I still don’t know exactly why it happened because nothing was out of the norm.

Beau is such a sweetheart. She is the light of my life. Sometimes, all I can do is hold her and love her as she fights her own demons. As a rescue and a former abused animal, these things are part of our life.

xoxo,
Beau and RaeAnna

DSC_1637-01.jpeg
She’s a happy girl, I promise.