Oh My Dog!

How are you doing? Are you staying well and safe (and sane) at home?

We’re sticking with our one day at a time mentality around here, but now that we’re a few weeks in, I feel like we need to create some kind of routine or structure to our days. A big piece of that needs to include the animals because they’ve been a bit overlooked as we adjusted to this new normal, and they’re also a smidge out of sorts with how different their lives suddenly became. Are your pets feeling like that, too?

If you’re looking for ideas to keep your dog busy during social distancing, I’ve got you covered!

I started to dig through my archives to pull up ideas on boredom busters for Coop. Below are several posts that will give you dozens of projects and ideas. One note: Most were written for surviving Indiana winters indoors, but almost all of the activities can be moved outside if you have a safe area to play with your pup. Just remember that if it’s a training exercise, outside is way more distracting than inside, so you might need to work a little harder.

But, hey. We’ve got the time…

5 Ways to Keep Your Dog Busy on a Rainy Day

I wrote this one for high-energy dogs like Cooper. Sometimes there just isn’t enough time in the (normal, typical, pre-quarantine) day to tire him out. Implement one or all of these to get a tired pup!

10 Ways to Tire Out Your Dog Indoors

This is my most-trafficked blog post almost every month. And it’s from 2010! We’re always looking for ways to entertain our dogs, I suppose. This will get you started! And when you check all those off the list…

10 (More) Ways to Tire Out Your Dog Indoors

One game on this list is “find it.” We play this several times a week. Recently, Violet’s gotten in on it, and I need to post it to Instagram Stories because it’s hilarious. She hides the toy, tells Coop to find it, then she runs over to where she hid it and yells, “It’s over here Cooper!! Here it is!!”

5 Ways to Exercise Your Dog Indoors

One of the tips in this post feels like a cheat–take a drive–but is so important right now. A spin around town with the windows down can do a world of good for you and your dog.

Teach Your Dog to Come When Called

A solid recall is, I believe, the most important cue for a dog to know. Hands down. If your dog’s recall isn’t solid right now, no worries. We have time to work on it! There are tons of ideas, tips, troubleshooting, and game ideas in this post. If you work on nothing else during this time, work on recall.

Bonus for the cats: Train Your Cat to Walk on Leash

The weather is getting nicer around here, and as soon as it starts to warm up, Newt itches to get outside. It’s time to break out their harnesses and leashes. If you’re interested in taking your cat outside safely, this is the post for you. (Also, I highly recommend you check out Chirpy Cats for the most EPIC backyard cat runs and catios. These are on my dream “someday” list for a backyard reno.)

Just keep playing! Ultimately, we have no idea how long we’re really going to be socially isolated. The most important thing is to find ways to bring joy to the situation, and play does it. If you don’t want to work through any training exercises or you don’t want to DIY or purchase some puzzles, then focus on fun. Grab a ball and play fetch. Go for a long walk. Play tug. Anything that keeps you and your pup happy and entertained.

I hope this helps, and in the meantime, stay well, friends.

Many people around the world find themselves thrust into working from home, whether they ever wanted to or not. Here’s how to not just survive but thrive working from home with pets.

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First, a little background: I started working full-time from home in 2008. I worked for a DC-based design firm when John began his PhD in Indiana, so I experienced working for an employer remotely. Then, I ultimately went full-time freelance, still from home, a couple years later.

That gives me 12 years of working from home under my belt–the whole time with pets. I’ve learned a thing or two (OK, five…) that I wanted to share as many of us suddenly and unexpectedly find ourselves in this spot.

BTW, this is not meant to exclude the thousands and thousands of front-line workers at hospitals, clinics, grocery stores, pharmacies, and gas stations around the globe. I am deeply, immeasurably grateful to you and all you do to keep this world spinning in this time of crisis. Thank you.

1. Prepare distractions.

Fill a bunch of Kongs (or these for a super long distraction–they’re much harder than a Kong is for Coop) with peanut butter and carrots, stash them in your freezer, and pull one out when you get an unplanned phone call or Zoom. If you have more time or have planned meetings, I love puzzle toys like those from Nina Ottosson (I think they’re all licensed by Outward Hound now so there are tons to choose from here) or a snuffle mat, which seems to be the quietest of all the puzzles, at least for Coop!

2. Ditch the doorbell.

The Instacart you’re waiting for? The Amazon order out for delivery? Those items will arrive when and only when you’re on a Zoom. Your phone will ring, and the driver will arrive at the same time. It’s the only immutable law of working from home. For a while, I placed black electrical tape over my doorbell, but people still rang it or they knocked. So, I put up a sign. When Violet was born, I purchased this one from Etsy, but anything will do!

3. Arrange your pets.

I heard a podcast producer say something like this once, and it stuck: When you can’t risk any background noise (an interview, a global conference call, your performance review, etc.), dogs need to be elsewhere. Put them in another room with activities like this or this and close the door. Cats, she said, are more likely to make a bunch of noise if they’re closed out, so leave the door open and hope for the best!

4. Be candid.

When I first started working from home, I worried that pet noise in the background seemed unprofessional. Finally, I just started conversations with a simple, “If you hear some background noise, I work from home with my rambunctious dogs!” More often than not, we’d end up having a couple minutes of pleasant convo about dogs. Now that just about everyone’s in the same boat, be upfront. You’ll likely find your colleague replies with, “And I’ve got a toddler and a cat!” Chuckle and move on with business.

5. Let your pets distract you.

It sounds counter-intuitive, but hear me out: One challenge inherent with working from home is the barrier between your work and home life dissolves. It’s tempting to fire up your laptop after dinner to process a few emails. It’s so easy to put the finishing touches on your presentation on a Saturday morning. And it’s perfectly OK to do those things as long as you balance them out in other ways. (I will never, ever be the person who swears you need to “set firm work hours,” which is probably the most common work-from-home advice out there… it doesn’t make sense to me to be that rigid since working from home enables flexibility!) That’s where our pets come in! Sprinkle in dog walks or time with your cat’s teaser toy throughout the day. You may knock out those slides on Saturday, but that time gets recouped with an extra-long lunchtime walk on Wednesday. In my decade-plus experience, mixing in reliable breaks, even if it means typing a few lines on the weekend, brings me much closer to balance than separating distinct work vs. home hours.

Working from home can be a blessing or a curse. It’s up to YOU and how you manage it. Obviously staying in sweats all day can be great, but if it makes you feel sluggish, throw on some jeans. Turning on Netflix probably isn’t in your best interest, nor is folding the laundry when you should be making that spreadsheet, but hey! you can watch Netflix while you fold your laundry over your lunch hour!

You can do this! We all can! We’ll all get through this, and I suspect this global experiment of working from home might change how the workplace looks forever after.

Hug your dog. Scritch your cat. Then get back to work!

Photo: Ioana Tabarcea on Unsplash

Hello, friends.

How are you? You hanging in there?

I don’t think I need to waste words or time talking about how different the world is today from even one week ago. You know. I know. It is what it is.

But, I wanted to check in because I’m thinking of you. I wake up in the middle of the night (is anyone else having trouble sleeping?) and think about how it feels like we live in a strange movie now, how 24 hours extend for three days, how you and your families are faring.

We know this will get worse–probably much worse–before it gets better.

So, give yourself grace. Give your pets grace.

Aside: Holy moly. Quarantine sure brings out my neighbors! Everyone is walking, bike riding, running, and so on with their dogs. Not so awesome for reactive dogs like Coop, who goes bananas all day long.

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Unless it feels right to you, ignore all the internet advice to use this time to write a book, learn a language, declutter your entire home, homeschool your children at least a grade level ahead. Why add pressure on top of the real-life dread of living through a pandemic?

Here’s what I’m doing:

• Playing with Cooper in the backyard a lot! We’re also dipping in and out of this book for some fun ideas and activities.
• Waking up early. I’m writing this at 6 am with Cooper snuggled on one side of my legs and Ripley on the other. I’m an introvert. I need time to myself each day. That time does not exist at home with John, Violet, and Astrid. From about 7 am to 8 pm, someone needs me. I’m getting up early to drink coffee in peace, to write, to putter around the internet without having to make someone a snack or clean something up or figure out a next activity. This morning time is mine.
• Flossing my teeth. It sounds small. It is small. But it’s one tiny, achievable daily promise to myself that creates a sense of normalcy and routine. Flossing my teeth grounds me in the reality that this strange time will eventually pass.

One other thing I started that, you guys, I regret but I also know it had to happen and no time better than when we literally can’t leave the house:

Potty training Violet.

In hindsight, during a toilet paper and bleach shortage, it may not have been the world’s smartest idea, but here we are.

All that said, I’m thinking of you. We are all–everyone across the globe–we are all in this together. We will get through it together. In tense, frustrating, exhausting moments, I keep repeating to myself: choose love, choose patience, choose kindness.

A lot of hard lessons will be learned, I think, but we’ll come out the other side hopefully with more compassion and kindness for fellow people and pets.

Take care of yourself.

Take care of your family.

Hang in there, friends.

I remember letting Emmett, Lucas, and Cooper out of the house, through the garage, and into the Houma backyard, and the instant I pushed the outer door open, Lucas shot off at an angle.

I tore after him–Lucas dashing off was never a good thing–and took a second to take in the picture. An opossum was scrabbling along the top of our fence, slipping and scratching and hissing, with Lucas on his back feet leaping at the terrified animal.

I remember in the corner of that backyard stood a tree that grew into the fence. The tree twined around the fence and the fence embedded into a piece of the trunk. We scratched our heads over that when we first moved in because why wouldn’t the owners have trained the tree in the opposite direction? But, they didn’t, and the result was a natural foothold.

I remember the flash of white hot panic when I saw Lucas plant his back feet into that foothold, preparing to launch his entire body up and over the fence after the retreating opossum. I remember the tension in his muscles as I grabbed his back thighs and pulled as hard as I possibly could. It turned into a tug-of-war: He got his paws on top of the fence and pulled with all he had, while I grabbed his legs and pulled with all I had. Thankfully his angle was so awkward and his purchase on the tree was so weak that I won. We tumbled backwards into the yard.

I remember being pissed. Furious. Clearly, fury served no purpose, and it was my fear response kicking in, but I was just. so. mad. at him. “Lucas! You idiot!”

I remember, later that night, cuddling him on my lap and apologizing. I explained to him that I worried about him: if he got lost or hit by a car or encountered another dog or or or or.

“Lucas, I’m sorry. I love you.”

I remember the girl with the Collie. Her name was CeCe. The Collie, not the girl. I don’t know the girl’s name.

I remember the feeling in my gut when I saw them walking. She, the girl, let CeCe roam to the full extent of her flexible leash. Then, CeCe huffed and stared straight into the eyes of passing dogs. She didn’t move at all. Just stood stock still and stared. The rudest of rude behaviors, of course, but CeCe’s person stood there completely oblivious. Lucas would go bananas.

I remember one time, they surprised us. I tried to avoid them at all costs, but one day they came around a corner and took us off guard. Lucas. went. INSANE. His snarliest of launching, pulling, scrabbling, clawing, growling behavior, and he pulled me right to the curb, almost into the street. Meanwhile, CeCe inched forward on her flexible leash and into the actual road. Into the street. And her person? Was literally texting.

I remember trying to pull Lucas as hard as I possibly could to just get away, but he was lunging with his full 80 pounds in the opposite way, and it was a battle.

I remember this concerned woman pulling her car up and yelling, “Do you need help?” And I yelled back, “I just need that person to KEEP WALKING.” She, CeCe’s person, snapped her head up. She looked shocked. Then she glared at me and started walking… in the direction I was headed. Thankfully the car woman waited until CeCe passed us by, and we walked the other way. Lucas got a longer walk to circle around back home, and my heart got an additional jolt of adrenaline.

I remember our neighbor, Hugh. An extremely tall, extremely thin man who lived down the hall from us in our DC condo. He owned a tiny little dog who Lucas didn’t care for but not to the extent of, say, CeCe. But Hugh didn’t quite understand our situation.

I remember him leaning forward and rubbing Lucas’ forehead. “Here, Lucas,” he’d coo. “Let’s get those wrinkles out of your face and then you could calm down.” We were baffled by the thought that if Lukey’s face didn’t have those wrinkle lines he’d feel better, but Hugh was so sure of it. Of course, I remember he also sprayed his dog with expensive perfume. So?

I remember the first dream Lucas appeared in after he passed away. In the dream, he ran far ahead of me along a cliff. He clearly enjoyed the freedom run, something he didn’t get to do often enough in life. His ears flew behind him and his tongue flapped in the wind.

I remember the sudden realization that the cliff dropped off into a vast body of water. In life, Lucas could. not. swim. Some say all dogs can swim. Lucas truly could not. I remember the feeling of panic I felt. He’s going to run off the edge. He’ll fall in the water. He can’t swim!

I remember that dream curse of trying to yell, trying so hard to call out, to shout his name, to stop him. I couldn’t speak. Nothing came out. But, in the dream, I somehow heard his thoughts. Don’t worry. I can fly.

Off the edge of the cliff he went. He plummeted toward the water and at the final second… he flew. His body lifted up and he soared.

I watched him fly away, right over that water he couldn’t swim in. I watched until he was almost gone, and when I woke up, I felt an enormous sense of peace.

He was gone, yes, and he just said goodbye.

Grief is a funny thing.

We’re almost to the three-year anniversary of Emmett’s passing, but all I can think about is Lucas. Not even Emmett stories that feature Lucas. Just Lucas.

I don’t know. Grief is a funny thing.

Well, not a thing. Or a person. Or a pet.

Grief is a place. It’s a big, cavernous place with lots of rooms and spaces. Some are peaceful and calm. Others are dark and desperate.

I must be walking through the Lucas Wing right now, because his stories keep floating to the surface.

Once you lose someone who matters, you move into this place, and the thing no one ever tells you, the thing no one ever talks about, is that you live there for the rest of your life. The loss never leaves you, so you can’t leave the place.

Some spaces are calm. Peaceful. Distracted. Busy. Full of love and hope and joy and meaning.

Then you pass a hallway and enter a different place, a hopeless place, a deep place with more darkness than light.

But, you keep going, and eventually you come back into the light. And this lasts forever. And no one ever, ever tells you that.

If you’re grieving, no matter which space you’re in, there will always be more light. Yes, more dark, too, but always, always more light.

My light? Right now?

You might think I’m crazy, but Lucas messes with his artwork in our home. We have two portraits of him, one of which always falls crooked. The other? Well, just a couple days ago we noticed a huge slobber mark across it that we can’t explain. So, he’s here. I’m here.

This must be the place.

Photo by Allie Smith on Unsplash

Recently someone suggested I lower the bar around here. It was kind advice and resulted from a comment I made about feeling overwhelmed of late. This person, though, had never been inside my house, so all I could think was:

If I lowered this bar any further, we’d all be eating out of a trough. All of us. Parents, kids, and pets.

You don’t have to have it all together!

Hello, friends! And welcome to another soapbox moment. 🙂

Let me start by saying: I’m deeply grateful social media wasn’t around when I was in school or when I started my first job out of college. My every move was not documented, “liked” (or… not liked…), commented upon, shared, or judged in any way. I lived my life, made my mistakes, and never thought about my look being “on brand.” I didn’t even have a look, unless you count jeans and a T-shirt.

The world has changed.

I love social media. Well, not Facebook. I struggle with Facebook. Another topic for another day. 🙂 I love Instagram and Pinterest and YouTube. There’s so much value to those platforms and to connecting with others who share similar passions. And, there’s so much information. Right now we’re dealing with some medical stuff with Astrid, and I’ve found a wealth of info on Instagram and YouTube. And I might just come around on Facebook because of different groups and things.

It’s just, until I connected on all these platforms, I never in my life realized how women consider themselves Type A! There are Type A dog moms, kid moms, cat moms, wives, employees, entrepreneurs, side hustlers… the list goes on. Scroll social–particularly Instagram–and you’ll see such a strong aesthetic and a carefully-curated view of these incredibly put-together women.

How on earth do they do it?

What is “Type A” anyway?

Wikipedia describes this personality type as “… outgoing, ambitious, rigidly organized, highly status-conscious, sensitive, impatient, anxious, proactive, and concerned with time management. People with Type A personalities are often high-achieving ‘workaholics’.”

Currently, a subset on Instagram and YouTube wears “Type A dog/kid/cat mom” as a badge of honor.

If that’s you, and it makes you happy, get it, sis!

I felt a little sad, though, when researching dog mom and kid mom hashtags for another project and all the recommendations for tags similar to #TypeADogMom were #overwhelm and #anxiety and #sotired.

I worry about the compare-a-thon created by all this content. Because, truly, you’re doing great, even if your version of great is imperfect. Actually, probably because your version is imperfect… perfection is too dang stressful.

Cut yourself some slack!

Says the lady who’s constantly self-critical… 🙂

The flip side of Type A seems to be #hotmessexpress. These are the posts with dog hair everywhere or muddy floors or hair in a bun with drool-stained yoga pants. *raises hand*

Either you have it all together and your dog is groomed and there’s no fur in your butter dish and your hair is curled and your lashes are done and you and your dog wear coordinated outfits… OR… you’re a mess?

Does it have to be either / or?

Nope, nope, nope.

I read this comment on an Instagram post this morning: “So many of us here pretend to have it all together online when in reality we are just trying to keep it together in real life.”

Oof.

That comment was left on a post by a dog mama who wrote about feeling tired and lost and overwhelmed, yet she’s one who keeps her pup’s barrette collection organized by size and color. She’s also a self-professed Type A and a mom of human kids and a hard-working, successful blogger. In other words, someone who seems to have it all together!

I’m certainly not implying that everyone who seems to have it together or everyone who considers themselves Type A is secretly a mess underneath. Not at all.

I do think that everyone, no matter their personality type or tolerance for pet hair in strange places, everyone struggles with vulnerability, and we all default to our most comfy hiding spot. For some, that’s having every little detail perfectly cleaned and organized. For others, it’s chocolate. Or whatever.

What if you’re not Type A OR a hot mess?

via GIPHY

Whoever you are, you are doing great.

If you love matching your pup’s collar to your handbag, do you!

If you’re lucky to have brushed your own hair and can’t remember your dog’s last bath (my hand is waving here), no shame!

Your dog bowls coordinate with your throw pillows? That’s so cool! Your dog stuff mish-mashes with all your second-hand furniture? Go you!

Wherever you fall on that spectrum, keep it up!

If you’re trying, you’re killing it. Do your best as a dog mom, partner, friend, employee, entrepreneur, all the different things you are… but then take time to do your best for YOU. Take breaks. Heck, give yourself a break. Avoid the compare-a-thon trap of social media and hug your pup. How lucky are we to get to share our lives with dogs?!?! Don’t lose sight of that in the quest to live a perfect life, to be a perfect dog mom, to post the perfect Instagram.

I am not perfect. I’m not a #TypeADogMom. I’m not a Type A anything!

I am the #WorldsOkayestDogMom.

I’m mostly okay at most things… and that seems to get me through just fine.

(Thanks to my friend Jodi at the amazing site Kol’s Notes for helping me come up with that hashtag!)

Where do you fall on the spectrum? Total perfectionist? Just okay? Somewhere else entirely? I’d love to know!! And please feel free to use the hashtag #WorldsOkayestDogMom on social to share your true story! Like that thread I mentioned reading, I just hope no one feels like they have to hide their reality to present perfection. Do you, and we’ll all be there for it!