We’re doing a massive throwback to when the puppies were still babies and I was the proud mama of fifteen dogs. Keeping in the vein of: I’m so far behind in writing content for the blog, I’m showing up with these pictures taken in the middle of May 2020 when the babies were tiny and I had yet to realize I had lost all motivation. So content I meant to publish well over a year ago is finally seeing the light of day.
This was as haywire as it looks.
As of right now, the puppies have been in their forever homes for a year and three months. I ended up keeping four and the mama along with my first rescue dog. The house is chaos, and I love it.
When it comes to names, I believe a name is important. It is an identity. The utterance of a name evokes an entire being. I’m the owner of a unique name with meaning. My dogs are my children, and I wanted to bestow them with unique and meaningful names; even if those names would only be with them for a short time.
Beau is the first baby I named. Her full name being Beauvoir for Simone de Beauvoir, the French writer, feminist, and existentialist. I wanted her to be strong and smart and full of character. All things that she very much is. When Tess came along, she was a pregnant teenager alone in the world, so I named her for the titular character in Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Let’s just say, her story has a much happier ending than the novel.
Tess brought the puppies into the world on March 3 and 4, 2020. Dylan and I went back and forth naming them. To say the least, the names were not necessarily equal in creativity. No paws pointed in any direction… Just to inform, the names I chose were largely literary or historical and sometimes both. The exception being Noski, meaning socks in Russian because he had four white paws, creatively uncreative.
My favorite thing was sitting down and letting them climb all over me.
March—Everyone thought I named her March because she was born in March. That would be coincidental. I named her for the March sisters in Little Women by Louisa May Alcott. Now named Vienna, for Vienna sausage because she looked like a tiny sausage puppy.
Hardy—Named for one of my favorite authors, Thomas Hardy, who wrote Tess of the D’Urbervilles. He was a Victorian novelist, who wasn’t afraid to tackle difficult subjects and women’s struggles. Now named Marcus, for Marcus Aurelius, so yay for a creative furever dad.
Hera—[Dylan Named] He wanted to name a few girls after ancient Greek goddesses, who are strong. Yay for mythological stories. So I’m not mad about it. Still named Hera.
Boudica—A warrior Queen of the Iceni tribe, who met and conquered the Roman forces in 60 AD. Maybe not literary, but there are some great books about her! Now named Lucy!
Makeda—Named for a highly disputed woman who may or may have not existed in Ethiopia and/or the Middle East, depending on tradition. She is better known as Queen of Sheba and first mentioned in the Hebrew Bible.
Lily-May—A combination of Lily Bart from House of Mirthand May Welland from The Age of Innocenceboth by Edith Wharton. Now named by Sadie.
Athena—[Dylan Named] Another girl named for an ancient Greek goddess. She’s still named Athena, but she goes by Teena.
Oryol—The hometown of Ivan Turgenev, a Russian writer, known for exploring nihilistic themes in much of his work. Fathers and Sonsis a particular favorite. He now goes by Murphy.
They were chaos, but they were cuddly chaos.
My house has three girls and three boys. The girls were all named by me: Beau, Tess, and Makeda. Dylan named the three boys: Knight, Duke, and Bear. None are literary names. I did make Knight’s name fun by pronouncing it K-Nig-Hit. It is pronounced phonetically and not with a silent k, g, or h. People look at me weird, and I love it. I like to tell people Duke was named for Duke Orsino in Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night, and Bear was named for Professor Behr in Little Women. Neither is true, but I can pretend.
bisous un обьятий, RaeAnna
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A family picture of all thirteen babies and their two mamas at three weeks old!
Happy Birthday Siren, Vienna, Knight, Marcus, Duke, Joey, Hera, Lucy, Makeda, Sadie, Teena, Murphy, and Bear! Being your first human mama was the most rewarding challenge I have ever been crazy enough to dive into.
After bringing home a very pregnant, street dog on February 26, 2020, Tessa went into labor five days later on March 2. Which means, a year ago, thirteen puppies were born in an epically long labor that lasted 38.5 hours with seventeen hours and one minute between the first and last born. Every single one of the thirteen is healthy, happy, and living their best life today.
What a year it has been.
I was a bit protective of my babies. I didn’t want them to go to their furever homes ever, but that was not an option—I couldn’t afford fifteen dogs, nor did I have the space. I sent them to their wonderful furever homes at three months old because I was able to ensure they were vaccinated, were well socialized, avoided the critical time when they could develop neurosis and fears, learned ample skills from their mama, and I was able to catch and solve some health issues. Puppies are adorable, and I loved every single second of my time with them, but those first three months was a massive struggle in every way. I look back and wonder how I did it. The answer: love and support from my closest friends and family. Neither I nor the puppies would have made it through without those heroes in our lives. Having thirteen puppies and a brand new mama dog was taxing in more ways than I can even describe, but I won’t even try because this is a birthday celebration.
What was even harder than getting through those three months: Watching them go to their new homes. I felt so empty when they were gone. (Even though I still had four puppies, Tessa, and Beau, pieces of my heart were missing.) Knowing each puppy was in the very best home for them made it much easier to say goodbye. Every single parent sends me updates, so I have gotten to watch them grow, becoming more themselves in the comfort of a loving home. I was the puppy matchmaker; I gave the puppy to the perfect home for them and a puppy suited to the home each family could provide. Some of the puppy parents have become good friends or were already good friends. Several have stayed for a night or a few when their parents go on vacation or work trips. Puppy play dates happen. They may not be my babies anymore, but they are still in my life. I am so blessed to have found so many wonderful homes for my amazing puppies.
From left top clockwise: Knight, Duke, Makeda, and Bear. The four babies who are mine forever.
Every day, all day for three months, I was surrounded by thirteen puppies and Tessa. Three months is a short amount of time, but it is a lifetime when you’re watching beings evolve and grow and become themselves. Each one had a unique personality from the moment they were born. Being around them brought me so much joy and filled my heart with love. I was so completely in love with each one. It was impossible to name a favorite, and to this day, the ones I kept are here because a) I wanted to make sure they received the medical care they needed b) their personalities were best suited to Beau and Tessa. I didn’t keep my favorite puppies because I didn’t have any. They were all perfect and still are.
The fact it has been one year since they were born… Is shocking. Where has the time gone? I have watched my four grow into these amazing dogs with huge, unique personalities and needs. Life has been busy and complicated and stressful at times, but I wouldn’t trade anything in the world for my dogs. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for my four puppies and the nine others. My heart is theirs. For now and forever.
A year ago, I was given a beautiful opportunity to give fourteen dogs a chance at life, and they are making the most of those lives every day.
Before they went to their furever homes, I took pictures with each of them. They gave me hope and happiness during an incredibly difficult pandemic. There’s no way I wouldn’t remember each one, but I wanted something beautiful to look at as the years fade the memories. I want to share them with you and a little bit about each one.
Siren, the first born.
Siren was born on March 3, 2020 at 3:45 pm, weighing 8.75 ounces. He was adorable and such a sweetheart. He loved to howl and let out an incredibly high pitched noise anytime he wasn’t playing. Rough housing was his favorite activity but I could always count on big kisses from him. He kept his name Siren and lives in Houston.
(March) Vienna gave the best kisses!
March was born on March 3, 2020 at 4:50 pm, weighing 11.3 ounces. Named for the March sisters in Little Women. She has a goofy dew claw with two nails. She was always up to play but never dove right into the middle of the pack. Cuddling was just as much appreciated as play. Her daddy claimed her right away and named her Vienna—after the sausages because they looked like fuzzy, brown sausages. She lives in Cedar Rapids, Iowa.
Lucky enough to call Knight mine forever.
Knight was born on March 3, 2020 at 5:35 pm, weighing the least at 7.5 ounces. He gave me so much anxiety from the start because he was so little and refused to gain weight. Sass has never been something he lacks. He still suffers from little man syndrome and hates being pushed around even though he is the second biggest in my house and in the litter. I kept him because we bonded over the ten daily feedings we had, his autoimmune disorder, and his deformed front legs. He still has the name Knight, but I pronounce it phonetically, to his father’s dismay. K-Nig-Hit is cuddly beyond belief.
(Hardy) Marcus has been using his soulful eyes since day one.
Hardy was born on March 3, 2020 at 7:15 pm, weighing 7.62 ounces. Named for one of my favorite authors, Thomas Hardy. I’ve never seen such soulful eyes, and he uses them often on his dad. He was equal parts rowdy and lazy. He was always one of the first to curl up in my lap or behind my back. He always had such long legs; there’s no doubt he could be a supermodel. Instead he’s assumed the name Marcus (as in Aurelius) and lives in the lap of luxury in Houston with his dad. Doggy daycare is his jam.
Derpy Duke was never meant to stay, but stay he did, and I couldn’t be happier.
Duke was born March 3, 2020 at 9:00pm, weighing 9.21 ounces. He was a big derpy goofball from the moment he was born. Chewing has been his favorite thing since they got teething toys at two weeks old. To this day, he has a toy or shoe (yikes) in his mouth. If there is a free lap or hand he will claim it. If there’s no free lap or hand, he will still claim it. At eight months old, he had dental surgery to correct his severe overbite, which gives him the derpiest smile on earth. He’s my forever baby. It was a happy accident.
(Nosky) Joey was an adorably cuddly handful.
Nosky was born on March 3, 2020 at 9:05 pm, weighing 8.57 ounces. He has four white paws, so I named him “socks” in Russian. He had, and still does, a predilection for starting squabbles. He loved to antagonize and then walk away. It was irritating and funny; I’m certain he enjoyed his practical jokes. I was incredibly stressed out at eight weeks because he developed a joint problem, luckily his forever mama is on top of it. He’s living the best life and is incredibly spoiled. He is now named after Joey from friends and lives in Pearland, Texas.
Hera’s looking away from the camera as I get kisses from her forever sister!
Hera was born on March 3, 2020 at 9:55 pm, weighing 10.12 ounces. She was the first to crawl into a lap. She could never get enough of those cuddles, although she was happy to get her play on whenever a tussle started. She was quiet, sweet, and an all around easy puppy. Today, she still goes by Hera and lives in Ames, Iowa with my parents, so she’s got a pretty cushy life with her sister, Teena and brother, Barney.
(Boudica) Lucy has the cutest dots on her nose!
Boudica was born on March 3, 2020 at 11:13 pm, weighing 10.2 ounces. Named for Boudica the 60 ad Iceni queen. From the very start, she didn’t live up to the warrior queen she was named for. She stayed far away from any romp, preferring cuddles to literally anything else. She was skittish and shy, which only made me love her more. With adorable dots on her nose, she is gorgeous, perfect, and ridiculously easy to take a nap with. Her new name is Lucy, and she lives with her feline sister, Juniper, in Lincoln, Nebraska.
(Star) Makeda is still joy incarnate.
Star was born on March 4, 2020 at 12:10 am, weighing 9.63 ounces. She was hoppy, happy, and ready to love on anyone from the moment she was born. It became evident very early on that we would keep her because she had enough energy to keep up with Beau. I started referring to her as “Joy Incarnate” at three weeks old because she always has been. I renamed her because I wanted a more unique name, so she’s gone by Makeda—an Ethiopian warrior queen—since she was three weeks old. She’s shy yet rambunctious, playful yet cuddly, happy yet reserved. She’s a dichotomy, and I fall in love with her more every day.
(Lily-May) Sadie has resting sad face.
Lily-May was born on March 4, 2020 at 1: 20 am, weighing 10.48 ounces. Named for Lily Bart in House of Mirth and May Whelan in The Age of Innocence both by Edith Wharton. Shy yet ridiculously lovable, she was always excited about everything once she felt safe. It was impossible to stay away from her because she followed me everywhere any chance she got. Today, she goes by Sadie and lives in Houston with her rescue dog brother, Cooper.
It’s (Athena) Teena’s turn to look-ish at the camera.
Athena was born on March 4, 2020 at 5:20 am, weighing 10.26 ounces. She was sweet but always a little funny. She wanted to cuddle but not that much. She wanted to play but not too much. She was curious but super cautious. She would frighten incredibly easily. She had such a soft coat, I loved burying my face in her neck and covering her with kisses. My dad has a knack for giving funny nicknames. He started calling her Teena, and it stuck. Today, she lives with my parents in Ames, Iowa with her sister, Hera, and their rescue dog Barney.
I never knew what (Oryol) Murphy’s ears would do from one day to the next.
Oryol was born on March 4, 2020 at 6:08 am, weighing 11.99 ounces. Named after Ivan Turgenev’s hometown in Russia. He was a chonk from the start and all about the cuddles. I was obsessed with his ears; they never knew what they were doing and changed day to day. He was so laid back that he earned the nickname “Stoner Puppy.” He loved playing, cuddles, and diving face first into food: the messier the better. He hated bathtime, though. For such a lazy puppy, he popped right to life the moment I tried to bathe him. I hope for his mama’s sake, he’s gotten better with age on that front. He lives in Houston, Texas with his mom and goes by the name Murphy.
Bear is much, much, much bigger now.
Bear was born on March 4, 2020 at 8:46 am, weighing 12.1 ounces. Last but definitely not least, Bear is unforgettable. He was the last, the largest, and the most headstrong of the bunch. Where there was a will, Bear would find his way. He was a cuddly challenge from day one, but he’s impossible not to love even when he was causing me a great deal of frustration. His dad fell in love with him, and he ended up staying in my personal pack. I wish I could say he’s gotten easier, but all I can say is: he’s gotten bigger! He lived up to the name Bear and weighs about 100 pounds with the biggest head he could muster. Luckily, he’s more lovable than he is frustrating.
Happy Birthday my babies! I can’t believe you’re all a year old. I can’t believe I survived. I really can’t believe I’m the mama to four of you. To my other nine babies: I miss you all every single day, think of you often, scroll through the thousands of pictures I took, and talk about you endlessly. I am beyond lucky to have watched you grow into the puppies you were, and I am even more blessed to be able to watch you all grow into the dogs you are becoming. One year down forever to go!
bisous und обьятий, RaeAnna (Your First Human Mama)
Celebrating Tess’ Gotcha Day with a cookie and her sister. I’m embracing the chaos of my life as it is without trying to make it beautiful for Instagram or the blog. Having six dogs, four under a year, is messy, and I’m okay with that.
A year ago last Friday, I was headed to an event in Houston. Dressed up in heels and a skirt, I stopped traffic to herd a very pregnant dog to the side of the road. Ignoring the honking and middle fingers, I persuaded this sad, scared looking dog into the back of my car. I had no idea what the hell I was going to do with her or what I was going to tell Dylan, but in my soul, I knew she was mine. A vet trip, Amazon shopping, several pet store runs, and six days later, Tessa had a name, a home, and thirteen healthy puppies. And I was embarking on the longest year of my life.
Today, Tessa is a 35 pound ball of energy, cuddles, and love. She may be the smallest being in the house—except for the bugs Texas insists upon—but she refuses to get lost in the fray or be pushed around. She was a good dog from the moment I gently plopped her in my backseat, but she has come so far. She’s healthy, happy, and goofy. She is obsessed with her sister, Beau. Intermittent wrestling with her four ginormous babies on her very specific terms between sun-naps and mama-snuggles is how she likes to spend her days. She’s sproingy and gentle. I could go on forever about how fabulous she is, but y’all would get bored, and I would never finish writing this because I would have to take many breaks to give her gratitude kisses.
I cannot imagine my life pre-Tessa. That’s 100% a lie. I can absolutely imagine my life pre-Tessa. It was not lacking for anything, but my life is more complete because of her.
A year and a week ago, I would have never been able to picture the way my life looks today. I wouldn’t be surprised because this past year is exactly something I could have seen myself doing, but I would not have planned it. I learned so much about myself from and because of Tessa. I learned my heart has no shortage of love to give and I am able to willingly give up everything I can for those I love and those who need me. I learned to draw boundaries and stand up for myself. I learned to take and ask for help. I am a better person because I stopped traffic for a desperate dog. I am a more tired person because I decided to keep that desperate dog. I am a happier, more blessed person because I embraced the challenges of keeping that desperate dog and four of her babies.
They sure enjoyed that!
Tess changed my life in far more than eleven ways. Without a doubt in my mind, she changed my life in ways I have yet to grasp. She is a blessing and a challenge. But she is mine, and I am hers.
Financially—Oh goodness… I haven’t done the exact math on the amount of money that has been spent because Tessa found her forever home in my home. The least I can say is, bye-bye savings! Hello, debt. I made responsible choices, but the financial impact of taking on a heartworm positive, massively pregnant street dog was not small. Between her health and making sure the puppies were alive, healthy, and thriving, I will be feeling it for a good long while. I say this without complaint. But it is definitely a big life change that cannot go unnoted. I don’t think people realize the financial commitment it is to take on a street dog, let alone a pregnant one. She and the puppies—those I kept and those I did not—are worth every penny spent, knowing they are happy, healthy, and forever loved.
Worry—The amount I worried about Tessa while she was pregnant, while she was momming, and during her heartworm treatments has been all-consuming. I worry about her and her babies constantly. It’s the mama in me, I know. I just want them to be safe.
Sleep… What is that?—I think I am still catching up on all the sleep I lost while I was taking care of the puppies. Tessa had thirteen puppies and eight lactating nipples. Even after the puppies were weaned, they did not sleep through the night. It took months to get them into a rhythm. Even now, they are early birds… I am not. It’s a process.
Home Ownership—Buying a home was a process we had already started when I picked Tess up. Having her expedited the whole experience and dictated the houses we were looking at. Bigger became better in both square footage and yard size. I love my home, but it’s not the one I would have picked if I were still a one dog mom.
Taking Breaks—2020 would have been a taxing year without raising a pack. It felt like the emotional and psychological Olympics. I all but signed off of social media, blogging, and doing everything but the bare minimum in my social, work, and personal life. I did not and still do not have the emotional bandwidth to take on a lot. As a perfectionist managing my workaholism, having to settle for done and not working has been hard. I have finally been able to accept the fact that all the dogs are alive and healthy can be enough. That taking breaks from life (outside of responsibilities) is acceptable and necessary and sometimes even the healthiest thing to do. I will get back to being my Type A, workaholic self, but until I can, I’m not going to beat myself up about it.
Waking Up—I hate waking up. Tessa does not love lounging in bed past eight without getting up for breakfast and a potty break. Her preferred method of waking me up is by howling if she’s in her box or pouncing straight on my face if she’s sleeping in bed. Neither of which are my preferred method of waking up, so it’s an ongoing adjustment.
Cleaning—Cleaning has never been my favorite activity, but I am a neat freak. There’s a lot of letting go that happens when you have six dogs. Cleaning has not been one of them. Things are messier than they used to be, but I do not want my house to smell like dog. So I clean. I clean often.
Pack Discount—I have so many dogs, I get a pack discount at the vet. It’s something, and I’ll take it.
Embracing The Casual—I am a casual person, but casual is not my style. I love to look great, and I love having a house that looks pristine. Ha! Ha ha ha ha ha! I have six dogs now, so casual has become the de facto. I live in sweatpants and tshirts. I have accepted my legs and arms will be covered in scratches from Tessa’s playful and attention seeking sproings. I sadly cover my beautiful couch with blankets so it will last. I have begrudgingly accepted the casualness of my new life.
Pants—Speaking of sweatpants… I never wore pants around the house until Tessa and the puppies. She loves to jump around and throw her paws. Little she may be; gentle she is not. To protect myself, I have made the ultimate sacrifice. Every morning as I get out of bed, with sadness in my heart, I submit to leg prisons. This is the meaning of a mother’s love.
Love—The first night Tessa was in the house. I lay in bed listening to her breath. I was distraught with worry. I didn’t know if I could love another dog as much as I loved Beau. I was terrified Beau would feel less loved. I did not know if I had enough love to give Tessa and the puppies. I was an idiot. Love has been just about the only thing I have enough of. Love for them has given me the strength to lean on people, ask for help, accept my limitations, stand up for myself, set boundaries, and know when to say enough. As much as I love them, they have given it all back to me and so much more. Beau, Tess, Knight, Duke, Makeda, and Bear love me intensely. I have never felt more whole, more loved, more secure in the world than I do today. Tessa has changed so much of my life. So much of those changes have been challenging and heartbreaking, but it is completely worth it because of the love she and they give me every minute of every day. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for them.
It’s hard to fathom a year has gone by. Feeling simultaneously short and long, I had no idea what was coming at me 366 (leap year) days ago. The moment Dylan and I decided to keep Tess and take on the challenge of raising puppies and finding them homes, I knew it would be an adventure. Oh boy, has it been an adventure. The adventure of my life. Tess was a life altering decision. One that I made without really thinking about it. All I knew was I had to save that desperate dog from being hit by a car. Here we are.
Vienna watching the horses in the pasture.Vienna exploring the woods.Being cautiously curious about the really big dogs!
When I brought Tess home, I would have never, in a trillion years, imagined my tiny dog would be filled with thirteen puppies. THIRTEEN! I just about had a heart attack when the vet came in with the news and the x-ray proof. It is still one of the wildest facts I’ve had to digest. I didn’t know what we were going to do with thirteen puppies. That’s thirteen births, thirteen mouths to feed, thirteen vaccinations, thirteen lives to watch over. Thirteen homes to find. I was mostly worried about the thirteen homes.
I am a tiger mama. I would do anything for my babies. I knew I was not going to let the puppies go to just anyone. I vetted everyone who was interested in a puppy. I did home checks, interviewed, and made them sign contracts. I wanted to make sure every single puppy would be in a home that would love them and take care of them forever. I even made my very best friend and my parents sign a contract. There were zero exceptions made. Tiger mama. Even though nine of the puppies are no longer mine, there is nothing I would not do for them and their parents. Need a babysitter? I got you. Have a question at three in the morning? Call away. Want a hand to hold at the vet? Give me ten minutes. We’ve got this!
I found eight homes. Five found homes in Houston: two with my close friends, three with (now) new friends. One went to a wonderful home in Nebraska. Two stayed with my parents. One went to my best friend. Each and every person/family is lovely. They’re crazy dog parents like me. I couldn’t have asked for better families for them. Honestly, I’d let them all adopt me. Everyone has been beyond wonderful and keeps me updated with pictures and videos and anecdotes. It is just the best outcome I could have asked for. I have even gotten to dog sit for a few of them.
Giving them up was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do. If I could have kept them all, I would have. But that’s not fair to the puppies. They deserve to have all the attention. In a home full of dogs, I wouldn’t have been able to give them the attention they deserve. I found joy in pairing each puppy with the right family. Active puppies went with active people. Shy puppies went to families with patient hearts. The puppies attached at the hip stayed together. They all ended up exactly where they were meant to. And they are so incredibly happy and loved and safe.
I never pressured anyone into a puppy because it’s a huge decision. A life changing decision. A financially, socially, emotionally, life altering entity coming into a home and peeing on things. A dog will be a part of your life for fifteen years (fingers crossed). They are family. My best friend, Alex, had been talking about adopting a dog someday. As in, not now. He wanted to get settled into his post-military life. I never even mentioned him taking a puppy because he’d been clear about a dog is for future Alex. Two weeks after the puppies were born, he said he wanted one. I thought he was joking. He wasn’t. I suggested March for him. She was the right combination of playful, active, funny, cuddly, and smart he needed. Each of the puppies is special, but she was specially suited for Alex. He met her at eight weeks old and fell in love. I delivered her to him on my birthday when she was twelve weeks. It was hard saying goodbye, but I knew I would get to see her again and watch her grow up.
Vienna is an active girly, who loves to run and explore.
Before March was even four weeks old, Alex was sold. We video called often so he could see the puppies and “get to know” March. I told him to start thinking of a name so she could get used to her new name. They were all asleep in their various squishy shades of tan, brown, and black. He said, “They look like sausages; I’m going to name her Sausage.” I responded with, “No puppy for you. You can’t name her Sausage.” In his ever quippy manner, “Fine. I’ll name her Vienna. Vienna Sausage.” I tried to talk him into taking two so he could have a Vienna and a Genoa, but he is the very proud doggy daddy to Vienna.
I was able to visit them in August when I went to Iowa. I was nervous she wouldn’t remember me, but she did. She is growing up into the sweetest and most playful dog. Her personality is really shining through now that she doesn’t have to compete with twelve other puppies for attention.
Raising puppies is hard work. Really hard work. Emotionally and physically exhausting work. Twelve weeks is not a long period of time, but it’s long enough to fall completely in love with thirteen individual puppies. For their personalities to be engraved on my heart. Being with them 24/7 is grueling but amazing. I watched them grow, see their eyes open, teach them how to eat solid food, clean up poop, and more. I got to know their unique personalities. Everyone asked which was the best puppy or who was my favorite. The truth is, I didn’t have a favorite. I couldn’t choose. They’re all perfect and special and wonderful. They’re so different. I love them all.
The puppies have been with their furever families for three and a half months, and it is an absolute joy to watch all the puppies grow into themselves and their families. I know I did the right thing taking Tess in and caring for them until their furever families took over. I knew from the beginning it would break my heart, but it’s the good break. A happy break, knowing they’re in the best place for them. I miss them every day, and sometimes, I look through the thousands of pictures I have. The fact each family takes the time to keep me updated on their growth, development, health, and happiness means more to me than they could ever know.
Life is always difficult. I would like to meet the person who says it isn’t and learn their secret. Until that person makes themselves known, I’m going to continue operating under the premise: life is hard, and there is always that obstacle, that health issue, that person, that work project, that special something that makes life a little less pleasant than I’d like it to be. Sometimes all of those somethings at once, which is a total bugger of a situation.
In so many ways my life is really lovely right now. Next week’s 11… will be a post about the lovely things in my life, but right now. Nope. I’m going to complain.
I pooped my pants today. That is correct. You read that correctly. No typo. I would love to tell you this is an isolated incident. It’s not. Since I was 24 and went through quite a major health incident, my body does not always work properly—rarely ever. I go through particularly bad periods where I can’t stray too far away from the bathroom, which is a real problem for any kind of social life, plan making, trip taking, or work doing. It could be a lot worse, but it was just an incentive to do some laundry.
My Anxiety Demon is stalking me. Anxiety is no joke. It’s been making my life difficult for as long as I can remember, but over the last few months, it’s been making itself known excessively. Currently contemplating life without sleep or responsibility as a solution. So far not working.
Sedated Tess. Tessa is my angel baby. She came to me and brought responsibilities of enormous proportion at a time when the distraction and love was everything I needed with the bills, everything I did not. She permanently brought me Knight, Makeda, Duke, and Bear and let me take care of nine other babies until their furever families could take them home. Tess is on the tail end of her heartworm journey. YAY! But she still has six months until we get the all clear. And another month of restricted activity, which means sedation. She’s a nightmare on sedation. Grumpy, ass bitch (in the most literal of terms). I get it, she’s frustrated, but it is hard when we have a houseful of dogs wanting to play, and Tess wants to eat them because they get to play and she doesn’t.
One of our air conditioning units and the furnace needs to be replaced. Living in Houston, air conditioning is as necessary as food. I need it to function. Ours is on its last leg. So fun.
Depression. My Depression Demon and Anxiety Sadist are currently skipping hand in hand around my brain. It’s great. Quite the houseparty they’ve got going on. I’m just waiting on them to invite Insecurity Fiend and Nervous Nelly over for some real fun.
Duke has a SEVERE overbite. We’ve been monitoring it since we first noticed a hint of overbite. He had a check up with the vet last month, and we were told he would be fine until his next check in at eight months old to see how it’s doing. Well, we noticed some holes in the upper palate of his mouth from his teeth being misaligned from the overbite. We took him in immediately. Well, he (and all the other puppies) are growing so fast, their little bodies are changing like crazy. He needs to be seen like yesterday by a dental specialist/orthodontist to correct the damage that’s already been done and make adjustments to his mouth to prevent further damage. Yikes.
Money seems to be flowing out of my pocket like it’s air. Between buying a house, all the issues that come with that, and my dogs’ issues, I am broke. I mean, I have enough money to eat, but the savings are depleted, and credit cards are tired. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t trade them for the world, and I am so glad they found a home with me because I know they will be taken care of and their needs will be met. But it does take a toll on the emotions and the wallet. No regrets. They are worth it, and I’m truly grateful I have a partner as committed to giving up and cutting back where we can so that we can put that money towards the needs of our babies’ health.
I rolled my ankle today. There’s a running joke in my family that I can dance beautifully, but that walking really trips me up. Literally. I now have the added obstacle of a step down into my living room and hardwood floors that need to be replaced because they buckle, popping up randomly in the middle of rooms.
I have hardwood floors that buckle, popping up randomly in the middle of rooms. This is a problem. It’s because when the floors were installed by the previous owners, they were done super wrong. It’s going to be expensive to redo the whole first floor, and right now the money is going to make sure the doggos are healthy.
Motivation. What is that? I have lost pretty much all motivation to hunt down writing gigs or even write the bare minimum for the blog. Most days, I feel a great sense of accomplishment that all six dogs and the man-friend are fed and alive. Part of it is a mental thing. I’m out of the habit and out of the mindset of working eight to fourteen hours a day. The other part is the lack of time. I have time, but I don’t have unencumbered time. It is really, really, really, really hard to read more than two pages without having to get up and referee a disagreement or figure out why the house is so quiet or let the dogs out so no one pees in the house or feed them or any number of things that come up. Imagine trying to sit down and actually write a book review or blog post or anything! It’s hard. I’ve had to start going to Starbucks to write for an hour before/after yoga. Which is really saying something, since I’m notorious for hating to work anywhere except my [home] office.
I don’t get to travel! Traveling is the way I decompress. It is my way of getting to breathe. I’m lucky that I can take my job with me wherever I go, and that my boyfriend is a live-in doggy daddy who can and does take care of the dogs when I leave. With the pandemic, there is no leaving. There’s staying. Nothing but staying. I love my home. I love my life. But I’m ready to get back on the road again.
Like everyone on the planet, I’m actually dealing with even more things than this right now, some more serious, some less, but this is a really good highlight reel of life being life. I’m complaining because I can, but I genuinely love my life and appreciate it. And, truly, it could be a gazillion times worse.
bisous und обьятий, RaeAnna
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One of my favorite people to follow on instagram is Jamick Beck. She’s a brilliant photographer and a lovely human to watch live her life through my phone screen. She lives in the South of France. During quarantine she worked on an Isolation Creation project, where she created a beautiful photograph every day and documented it on social media with the hashtag #isolationcreation. It was so inspiring, and I loved following along.
Social media has been flooded with all these amazing people creating amazing things with their newfound freetime. They are really living out #isolationcreation. I love it. My quarantine feels like the opposite: A vacuum where creativity and productivity have ceased to exist. I have been in quarantine (to the best of my ability) since the middle of March.
Now is not the time to be trapped inside my house with me, myself, and my multiple internal narratives of doom for company. My anxiety is having anxiety over how much anxiety I have over being anxious about everything. On top of it, my depression has been a raging ball of sadness and defeat. It’s an excellent combination for sustaining minimal productivity and an endless drowning sensation.
My sweet Duke wasn’t supposed to stay, but here he is furever.
On the surface, my everyday life has not drastically changed. I work from home and don’t have tons of reasons to leave the house. I used to travel a few times a month, and I was always bopping out to have lunch with friends or grab a coffee with someone or something in the world. None of that has happened, which is good for health reasons.
My quarantine has not included any of the things I would have liked it to include. Considering I can’t travel or leave the house and work has substantially slowed down, I should have time to do so many things. But not true. I have not written my book or even a short story. I’ve not even tended to my blog, which is my job. I don’t read the way I should be. Nothing that needs to be done is getting done. Nothing I want done is getting done. I’m existing in this space of doing the bare minimum. Here’s what the bare minimum has consisted of for me over the last few months:
Finding a dog, helping her have thirteen puppies, bottle feeding them, making sure they go to the vet every few weeks, emergency vet trips, finding them REALLY good furever homes, keeping them safe, and sending them to their furever homes. (I’m exhausted just thinking about it all again.)
Finding and buying a house. (The literal worst.)
Moving cross-country with all the dogs because the house situation took longer because of COVID and we were trying to…
Not be homeless.
Working on the few projects that came my way. (So slow… who needs a writer?)
Sleeping whenever I could, which was hardly never.
Moving back across the country with the dogs to…
Finally move into the house.
Unpacking the house… Unpacking the necessary things; still working on the unnecessary bits.
Battling my anxiety and depression.
Fixing the house because it was NOT in the shape it was supposed to be in.
Makeda front and center where she likes to be. They loved laying in the laundry basket. Don’t ask me why.
Productivity and efficiency are my main modes of existing. I hate doing nothing. I hate inefficiency. I hate wasting time. In my mind, nothing has been productive or efficient during quarantine. It’s wrong. I know I have been productive and as efficient as one can be with puppies considering the circumstances of COVID-19, fifteen dogs, moving, and not living in my own house for two and a half months. There’s this anxiety/depression monster that lives in my stomach (head but I feel it in my stomach) telling me I’m the fucking worst and I could do more and be better and why is nothing done the way it could be??? The last four months have not been my ideal version of productivity. When I see time where I’m just sitting, that’s time I could have been working, unpacking, or doing something with my life to achieve my dreams in any and all the ways. I could have done more during quarantine, but I also couldn’t have. I’m dealing with life, puppies, work being slow, COVID, anxiety, depression, and that’s my version of #isolationcreation.
This was my cue they were done playing and wanted to go in for a nap.
Instead of creating art or finding my love of needle point (I’m actually already not bad at that) or getting in shape or learning how to speak Urdu, I’ve been creating fourteen healthy lives. My #isolationcreation is the puppies and their mama. I took her and the thirteen puppies in during a really difficult time. I made sure she had everything she needed before, during, and after the birth. We almost lost her, but we didn’t. I’m working on getting her healthy – she has already come such a long way. We were told to only expect eight puppies to live, but all thirteen are alive, happy, and healthy. There were several puppies who needed extra attention because they were small, weak, and/or sick. They made it through and are living their best lives. Nine found their perfect homes. Four are stuck with me, two of which have special needs (I call them my miracle boys), but I know they’ll be taken care of. They are almost potty trained. They know how to sit and stay. They’re well behaved and wonderful to be around. They’re the image of health, and they’re growing like crazy. They bring me joy and keep me busy. Life is never dull.
I’m hard on myself, but I always have been. Struggling is my main form of existing right now [always], but I’ve created good where there was sadness during quarantine. I didn’t create beautiful artwork for the world to enjoy like Jamie Beck, but I created something intangibly beautiful for the puppies and their furever families. I did what I could, and I hope it was enough.
bisous und обьятий, RaeAnna
I did my very best for them, and I loved watching them grow and change.#isolationcreation
