Why I’ve come around to the phrase pet parenting

06•12•18

File this one under: “You do you, boo.” (Kind of like this one.)

Anyways, some pet blogger friends and I had this conversation a while ago, and I’ve been meaning to write about it but kept putting it off. Part of me was like, Well, who really cares what you think about this topic. And part of me was like, Let’s not wade into that pond.

But, honestly? I’m kinda tired of seeing people picked on for how they choose to label themselves.

And, you guys, the comments that show up out there are just plain mean.

Why I've come around to the phrase pet parenting

“Pet parenting” felt slightly too anthropomorphic for my taste. There are real risks to our pets’ well-being if we treat them like and expect them to be wired like and to behave like tiny humans. On the other side of that coin, “owner” implies Cooper is like my bike or my kitchen table.

Plus, I never felt like my animals were my children, but rather my friends. My partners.

Not that any of that matters to how you think of yourself with your pets.

Of course, now I do have a tiny human, and she’s just the greatest thing around. But she’s also made me realize just how similar caring for animals is to caring for tiny humans in a handful of key ways:

As the parent, you spend an inordinate amount of time dealing with effluvia. Dogs with midnight diarrhea and babies with midnight diaper blowouts share a lot in common. Puke becomes a way of life (Newt.) and you deal with it and move on.
My entire budget goes toward feeding my brood. I’m constantly almost out of milk or cat food.
I mentioned earlier that dogs aren’t tiny humans. However, they have to live in a human world and therefore have to behave appropriately. It’s on me to teach my crew how to behave. While Violet is a tiny human, she didn’t come programmed with things like… not snatching a library book out of another kid’s hands or not throwing food during breakfast, among others. It’s on me to teach them all what is (and isn’t’) appropriate.
They get bored easily. All of them. Toys (everyone), activities (Violet and Cooper), laser chase (cats and Violet), outside stuff (everyone), and Mama’s fifteenth consecutive performance of Itsy Bitsy Spider (Violet) can usually get us to lunchtime… but they all need enrichment and stimulation.
Grooming–hair, nails, and teeth–is an attempt to clean something that’s actively trying to run away from you.

Last week, we were at Target picking up more wipes and milk and whatever else leads you to spend $100 when you only went in to buy two things…

Violet decided that she was going to clip the two pieces of the seat belt in the cart’s child seat. She had one piece of the buckle in each hand and was bashing them together because, you see, Violet doesn’t yet have the fine motor skills to actually accomplish that feat. So, I waited a minute while she bashed, and then I so-very-innocently said, “Would you like some help?” As I reached forward to snap the buckle together for her, Violet. lost. it.

Toddlers are an interesting breed.

She wanted the buckle clicked, but she couldn’t do it herself, but she didn’t want help, but she wanted the buckle clicked, but she couldn’t do it herself, so…. vicious cycle and meltdown.

In that moment, you know what I thought?

This is a lot like Coopsie seeing a dog across the street out on a walk!

He loves to play with other dogs. He can’t figure out how to behave when he sees one though. So he goes bananas, but then he doesn’t get to meet the other dog because he’s going bananas and so he gets frustrated and escalates the bananas until he’s on his back legs barking and crying his face off…

Violet doesn’t get the seatbelt clicked; Cooper doesn’t get to play with other dogs.

And then there’s me, standing there, waiting out their fit so we can move on with our shopping/walk.

So, yeah.

Ultimately, parenting pets is pretty darn similar to parenting tiny humans. I now consider myself a pet parent. I’m a proud dog mom, cat mom, and Violet mom.

If you consider yourself a pet owner, that’s cool, too. In the end, it doesn’t matter. And not that you guys are any of the ones leaving the nasty, judgey comments, but when you’re navigating the internet and see someone label themselves as something different from you, remember that that’s totally fine. You’re not that person, right? So it’s not up to you to judge how they label themselves!

Discussions are cool–feel free to share your thoughts, ideas, or your own labels in the comments below–but mean, judgmental snark is uncool. Just do you, boo, and let others do them, too!

So, let’s hear it: Why do YOU call yourself with your pets? Are you a pet parent? A pet owner? Do you have a special name (like, Emmett and Lucas always “called” us Lady and Man)?

Gratitude

06•01•18

Sometimes when I see someone walking their dog down the sidewalk, I watch the dog’s tail swish around happily, head bobbing, taking in all the sniffs. I see dogs stop to greet other people and other dogs out on their walks, or–even better–I see dogs walk past and ignore other people and other dogs out on their walks, and I feel jealous.

Oh, to love a dog who can walk down the street in a calm (even happy!) manner. To stroll the neighborhood without my head on a swivel, spotting and assessing who or what’s ahead and rerouting as necessary. To go to the park and not have to wait in the car until the coast is clear to unload the pup.

None of those things are Cooper, though. They’re just not. And that’s really, truly OK. We love him so thoroughly, quirks and all, that we’re more than willing to adjust our habits and our walks and our routines to make sure he’s happy. Of course we are.

Even though he makes me nuts sometimes, I’m so grateful for Cooper and everything that makes him him.

I found myself frustrated with him the other day because I feel like we’ve plateaued in his training and maybe even back-slid a bit. For a long while, he was OK with people out and about as long as they didn’t have dogs with them and as long as there wasn’t something startling (like getting out of a car right in front of him or, you know, sneezing). Recently, though, he’s started to react to people who talk to us when we’re out, even from afar.

For example, there’s this lady at the end of our block who’s going through chemo, and she’s started this big flower garden in the front of her yard along the sidewalk. Clearly it’s therapeutic for her because she’s often out there working in the dirt, or I’ll go by after a couple days and there’s a whole new patch of flowers planted. Last week, we happened to be out for our walk when she was happily working in her garden. I commented to her how beautiful it was, and she replied–I have no idea what she said though because as soon as she started talking, Coop barked his face off at her. Cue embarrassed wave, mumbled “sorry,” jog away…

I steamed for the rest of our walk. Why can’t he keep his shit together?

Then we got home. He sipped some water. He let the baby climb into his bed. He kissed her cheek.

Gratitude

He followed me up to my office, swishing his tail. He settled behind my desk, and every time I looked at him or talked to him, he’d lift his head. Wag. Scootch closer to me.

He’s my guy, through and through. He’s a family guy. He adores the kitties. He adores friends and family who come over and pet him. He adores the baby. He loves being home. He just is a homebody. He loves laying in the yard and watching the birds. He listens so well and behaves so well at home. He comes when he’s called.

Sure, I wish he could relax and enjoy life outside the house a little more. I feel like he’d get to go so many more places with us and do so many more things, but that’s just not him. And, I’m so grateful for all the things that make him him.

My best friend lost her dog recently. It was an unexpected, sudden, fluke tragedy. My heart is broken for her family, and I miss his easy smile. He was a good boy.

Their lives are too short already. Being cut even shorter is astronomically unfair.

I think about Cooper and all the things that make him Cooper, and I think about him turning eight this summer (EIGHT!), and I’m just so grateful for having him grace my life. I’ve learned more from Cooper than I realized possible–another post for another day, perhaps–and he’s changed my perspective on everything from health and wellness to perseverance.

Yes, we still see other dogs walking nicely on leash in public places, and we turn to each other and say, “Wouldn’t it be nice…”

But then it wouldn’t be Cooper, and Cooper isn’t perfect, but he’s perfectly ours.

Gratitude _ OhMyDogBlog.com

What are you grateful for about your dog? Despite or because of his quirks?

Dear Cooper

08•21•17

Yesterday, Coop, you turned seven.

How that’s possible… I still can’t wrap my mind around it…

But, it’s true, and here we are. Today, you are a seven-year-old pup. “Middle aged.”

I say “middle aged” in quotes because you, my dear Cooper, did not get the #adulting memo. Or, maybe it’s that you’re taking the phrase, “age is nothing but a number,” in its most literal sense. You are a wild child at heart, and hitting this middle age hasn’t slowed you down one bit.

In fact, now that you’re in this phase of life, we have to slow you down. We’re being so careful with your muscles and joints because there is nothing you love more than going full-out, full-tilt top speed. We’ve started you on a joint supplement regimen and are trying to lift you in and out of the car instead of letting you hop up and down, which you’re not super happy about, but you go along with it with your usual stoicism.

There are a few immutable facts about you, Coop. The athleticism, sure. Also, your brilliance. You’re the smartest pup we’ve ever known, which has gotten you into a lot of trouble over the years, but it’s pushed us to become better dog trainers. I learned so much from Emmett and Lucas, of course, and you’ve just opened up a whole new world for me on how to partner with a dog.

In a lot of ways, this is one of the harder letters I’ve written to you because it’s the first one where you’ve been alone.

Not, of course, alone alone. You’re not all by yourself, not even a little.

You are always with me. You adore Violet. You love John. You and Newt even have a really special, really funny friendship.

But, you’re still more alone than you’ve ever been. You’re alone without any brothers.

This is the first time in your life you’ve been without at least one, most often two, and–for a short while–three, dogs around you at all times. We had no idea what this would be like for you, Cooper, and we worried and fretted and thought of all sorts of accommodations to make sure that even if you felt alone, you never felt lonely.

Well, as in almost all things, you rose to the occasion. In some respects, you’re thriving as the “only” dog.

You love having all our attention. With only one dog to manage, you get to go more places with us more often, more than ever before. And some of your less-desirable behavior quirks are starting to get worked out. You get the best spot on the couch and at the foot of the bed. You get to go on all the walks, no more trading off.

But we can see how much you miss having a dog around. You try so hard to get the neighbor’s dog to play along the fence line (even though, to me, he sounds kinda like a jerk… you seem to dig him…), and you go bananas whenever you get to see Otto or Cady.

I think that’s part of the reason why I struggled with this letter, to be honest. Most often, these letters recap the last year, all the highs and lows and progress. Your last year has been one of upheaval. The ground was never steady, and sometimes you got lost in the fray of Emmett’s declining health and the adoption process John and I were working through.

Losing Emmett was so hard for all of us, and we’re still finding our equilibrium. And Violet, while the most wonderfully amazing thing to ever happen, is still hard because a new baby affects sleep and schedules and routines.

Oh, but you love Violet. Since the first day she came home, you’ve been smitten. You check on her and lick her cheek. You lay by her when she does tummy time, and when we get home from running errands, the first thing you do is run over to her carrier to check on her… wagging your tail and sniffing her all over.

You’ve been amazing since the moment you laid eyes on her.

But I stick on the question: Do you need another dog to be your happiest?

I don’t know the answer. I do know that we’re not ready to add another pup right now. But when I watch you get so excited to play with another dog, there’s no question it tugs at my heart.

So, your last year, Cooper… well, I don’t have anything really to document. No training progress. No goals we were working toward or behaviors we were working on. No big trips or adventures. We were all just getting through the day.

And, the thing is, I had you right by my side every single step of the way. You have not once left my side. In fact, you’re here right now, dozing in the dog bed right next to my desk.

Among those immutable facts about you, Coop, is this one: You are the most reliable, loyal friend a girl could ever ask for.

I’m so lucky to have you right here with me, and I promise to do a better job this year, your eighth, making sure you have fun, making sure you’re challenged, and making sure you’re happy–whatever that looks like.

Happy birthday, dear Cooper.

And just remember: No matter how old you get, you will always, always be my Baby Bean.

Summer Hiking Tips for You and Your Dog

07•31•17

You guys. It’s the last month of summer.

HOW did that happen!?!

Winter takes AGES.

But summer?

Gone in a flash.

But, we still have a month! We love doing stuff outside all summer long… reading on the porch, swimming, wogging (walking + jogging), grilling out…

Most of all, we love hiking.

Why is hiking a family fave?

Well, for one thing, it’s a wonderful way to enjoy the great outdoors without being in direct sun. That’s a big one for me, and it’s especially important now that Violet hikes with us because she can’t wear sunscreen until she’s six months old! Being out of the sun is great for Cooper, too, because he stays cooler than when we’re out in the open.

Plus, it’s a relaxing way to be active!

It’s so peaceful to get out in the woods with Coop. We can walk along, breathe in the fresh air, listen to the birds chirp, and unwind as we get exercise.

We’ve done a ton of hiking–from simple, flat trails to strenuous “what were we thinking” ones–and have gleaned a handful of tips over the miles.

Here are our best summer hiking tips for you and your dog.

(With maybe a baby tip or two thrown in for good measure… like, keep a sunhat in your diaper bag!)

This post is sponsored by Wellness® and the BlogPaws® Pet Influencer Network™. I am being compensated to help share information about the Wellness® CORE® RawRev™ raw food dog food but OhMyDogBlog.com only shares information we feel is relevant to our readers. Neither Wellness nor PetSmart are responsible for the content of this article. OhMyDogBlog.com is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to amazon.com.

Get the Gear

You don’t have to spend a lot to go for a walk in the woods. There are a few things, though, that make the activity more comfortable. For you, the human end of the leash, get decent shoes and a hat. That’s about it. For your pup, the list is a little longer. In our experience, a harness is your best bet. We like this Ruffwear harness because it’s reflective and because it has a handle in case we need to assist Cooper over a fallen tree or other obstacle, or a Kong paracord harness for simple, short trail walks (the one he’s wearing in the pic above… this is his everyday harness right now).

We always take one big Nalgene water bottle for us to share on a short, easy walk. More if we’re doing harder/longer/hotter. Then, we have a little pop-up water dish that has a carbiner on it. It clips right to Cooper’s harness for him to carry his own!

Depending on where you live, you might want to consider an insect repellent. Where we are in Indiana, ticks are a major problem, so we double up. Cooper uses a bug spray (we LOVE this one from Only Natural Pet because we can share it, too!), but then he also wears an Insect Shield bandanna <—- this one is similar to the one we got in our press kit at Global Pet Expo.

I’d also add squeeze cheese to the list if you have a reactive dog like Cooper and need an emergency reward/distraction on the trails…

Plan for the Worst (But, obvi, Expect the Best!)

This one sounds maybe a bit over-the-top. But here’s the thing: You just never know. Toss a first-aid kit in you car. Throw a towel in your trunk. Stash some extra bottles of water, a tube of sunscreen, and a map. A paper one. (Seriously, I can’t tell you how many times we’ve decided to try some new set of trails only to discover there’s no cell signal in the remote spot, and we didn’t actually write down directions to the trail head because we thought our phones would get us there. We keep a road atlas in my car.) A back-up leash can’t hurt either.

Obviously, hiking is super fun, but you want to be prepared for those just-in-cases. If you never touch any of those back-up plans, great, but you’ll have peace of mind knowing they’re there.

Follow the Leash Laws

That’s it. Seriously.

Oh, and pickup after your pup, too.

Get in Trail Shape

Everyone can (and should, imo!) get outside and enjoy the great outdoors. But if you and your pups are couch potatoes, start at a reasonable pace. Pick easier trails that are close to home and gradually build up to harder, longer, more adventurous hikes.

A big part of being in trail shape–and I feel like we intuitively all know this, but it’s far easier said than done for us humans–is good nutrition. Good nutrition is really the cornerstone of any active lifestyle. You can’t have fun being active unless you’re taking care of your body!

The same goes for our pets, and luckily for them, we’re able to learn about what’s best for them and their bodies. For Cooper, you guys know he has such a sensitive system, and food has always been a challenge for us. We’re fans of dehydrated foods and freeze-dried foods, and we were recently alerted to Wellness® CORE® RawRev™. You guys know our animals–except Cooper–have always been Wellness pets. So, I’m actually going to check it out for him since there’s a sale (see below!), because from what I’ve read, there are two key benefits for Coop: high protein for lean body mass and muscle tone, and glucosamine and chondroitin for strong joints.

Because he’s so active, not just with hiking, those two benefits seem HUGE to me. Plus, he’s turning 7 in a few short weeks, so keeping him lean and strong while supporting his joints is paramount.

Here’s the sale info if you’re interested, too: Join the Raw Revolution this summer! Visit Petsmart and buy one, get one 50 percent off 2-5lb bags.

I think that sums it up: Have the right gear, be prepared, follow leash laws, and be in good trail shape!

Thanks to our friends at Wellness for making this post possible. Please visit them on Facebook or Instagram!

What are YOUR tips for fun, safe summer hiking with your dog? Anything I missed here or any questions YOU have about hitting the trails? I’d love to share and learn in the comments below!

Finally, I’ll leave you with my current fave pic from a hike we took when Violet had JUST come home from the hospital:

This is a sponsored conversation written by me on behalf of Wellness®. The opinions and text are all mine.

The caterpillar and the butterfly but mostly the goo

03•29•17

I read some quote recently about the caterpillar turning into the butterfly. One life ending, the other beginning. It was supposed to be inspirational, but the image stuck with me.

Because it’s not really a beginning or an ending. It’s just a continuation of the same. It only looks different. A caterpillar basically digests itself with its own enzymes, becomes something like a goo with small clumps of chunky cells (maybe more like a stew than a goo?), and then all that liquidy glop comes together to become the butterfly. The thing is… stimuli that happens to the caterpillar is remembered by the butterfly. Nuts, right? It’s the same little being. Just different. (Seriously. It’s nuts.)

Why is this image stuck in my head?

It’s feeling a bit like an analogy of our life right now, though I’m not sure if we’re supposed to be the caterpillar or the butterfly. Frankly, I think we’re the goo.

I’m super opposed to self-pity. I’m relentlessly positive, putting a silver lining on just about any circumstance or situation or curve ball life throws this way.

But, man. I’m exhausted.

Between Emmett’s cancer round 1, followed by my cancer and John’s relocation to Louisiana, followed by Emmett’s cancer round 2, followed by John’s relocation back to Bloomington, followed by losing John’s dad, followed by Lukey’s cancer and amputation and treatment, followed by the Bloomington job not working out for John and relocating to Indy, followed by losing Lucas… and now…

Emmett’s health is failing. It’s been both gradual and sudden. Gradual in the sense that it’s taken since fall 2015 to get to where he is now with his declining mobility, but sudden in the sense that in the last month he’s gotten to the point where he can’t really hoist himself out of his bed without help.

There’s something wrong with his spine. We can do an MRI to see if we can figure out what. Best case? We swap one med for another to maybe alleviate some of the pressure. Worst case? Well, there are several. We spoke with his vet today. She suggested a quality-of-life assessment at Purdue.

My head knows the end isn’t far off.

My heart can’t take that knowing.

We are struggling, too, with a different kind of grief, one that I haven’t shared here. It’s the caterpillar and the butterfly again, though right now, like with Emmett, we are stuck in the goo.

Last fall, John and I decided to pursue an adoption. Not of the furball kind, but of the human kind. In this case, our heads and our hearts are aligned: We know this is what we’re meant to do.

And it’s really a joy-filled decision for us, and we’ve loved every step in the process–from the classes to the home study to getting to know other adoptive families. It’s been a remarkable, soulful journey. We know this is our path.

And yet. The goo.

We were chosen by a lovely woman. We met her and connected. We shared our lives for a few short weeks, and she called us when she went into labor six weeks early. We were there, holding her hand, when a perfect baby girl was born.

For reasons that are remarkably complex yet super straightforward–like the caterpillar and butterfly existing at the same time–her family opposed the adoption and, after 24 awful hours, gave the sweet baby girl to a distant relative.

We were–are–crushed.

We will pick up the pieces, of course, and we will continue down this path.

But all of these experiences, each one that piles on top of the other, it’s metamorphosing.

Things are changing, us included.

Part of that, for me anyway, has been avoiding this space. It’s a mistake, of course. I need to tell our story. (It’s like what Joan Didion wrote: “I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.”)

I often think that some stories don’t fit here because they aren’t exactly about dogs. Dogs are just part of it. But that’s true for all of us, isn’t it? Sometimes our dogs are center stage. Sometimes they’re supporting cast. But they’re always a piece of the story.

I read this piece yesterday, What sorrow looks like when joy is allowed to sit next to it, and it made the butterfly and caterpillar image sink in further.

We need both parts of the whole.

Adoption is a joy. The loss of this baby was a sorrow, a deep one, but we have more joy ahead. And maybe having been through this, we’ll be even better parents to our child.

Emmett’s life is a joy. His loss will be a tremendous sorrow, truly devastating. Oh, but the joy has been immeasurable.

So, yeah. We feel mired in the goo. It’s been a pretty rough five years. I have faith we’ll emerge.

{{OK, writing this now totally reminded me of something I’d completely forgotten… OMG… do you guys remember THIS?! I hope we don’t have the same fate when we do come out the other side.}}

In the meantime, we’ll just wait for the goo to come together and form our butterfly.

And it will.

It always does.