Frankly Speaking

Russell The Dog knows about Baby O.K. Or at least, I think he does. I’m telling myself that’s why he decided to relieve himself in my bedroom last night for the first time. Must be sibling rivalry – early form.

Everyone tells me Russell won’t matter as much once the new baby arrives. That he’ll fade into the background as more pressing issues and needs overtake my attention and my time. In many ways, they’re right. I know they are. But in other ways there is something special about Russell The Dog that is never going to change: He’s our fur baby.

He’s the one we brought home with great trepidation six months into our marriage. He’s the puppy who cried all night, day after day, as my dear husband lay on the floor next to him to keep him company (read: while I slept – not that he’ll ever let me forget it!). He is the one we hauled up and down three flights of stairs, sometimes making it to the small patch of grass outside. Other times not quite making it at all.

More than anything though, Russell The Dog is the one who moved us from “being married” to “husband and wife”. More than the cake we cut three years ago today, or the vows we took or the photos we snapped. More than the ceremony and the rings and the out-of-town guests. Russell The Dog forced us together in a way only a fur baby can.

He made us argue – and he made us find solutions. He made us compromise – and he made us give. He made us less selfish, more willing and more in tune to the needs of something – or someone – else. In short, he made us the couple we are today.

Having a dog is nothing like having a baby. I don’t have to deliver Baby O.K. to get that right off the bat. Filling a bowl with chicken flavoured dry food twice a day is nothing like siting up all night with a helpless little one who just needs you, of this I am certain.

But without Russell The Dog – we wouldn’t be the people we are today. Without the lessons we’ve learned, we wouldn’t be on our way to becoming what we’ve always wanted to be: a family.

So for that, Russell The Dog can pee on my pillow (this time). I’ll buy a new one.

Russell The Dog isn’t speaking to me. And I can’t really say I blame him.

There’s not much I wouldn’t do for this little doggy. From the moment The Husband and I met him, we knew he was meant to be ours. Two years, 3,846 chew toys, three doggy t-shirts, one doggy snow suit and countless visits to the doggy gym/vet/school later – here we all are. He is the centre of our little world. Let’s face it, Russell The Dog got more birthday presents than I did this year. But I’m okay with that. Because that’s the kind of good dog mother I am – rather, was.

Today, I fell from grace in the eyes of Russell The Dog. It was that pivotal moment in which he realized – like we all eventually do – that his mother is not infallible. That she is not all-knowing. That she, too, is flawed. But worse than all that – he realized that I can’t pick him out in a crowd.

That’s right. I confused Russell The Dog for someone else – and he saw me do it.

Oh, the agony of embarrassment. It was an honest mistake. The groomer was holding a little white doggy, to whom I actually said “Wow, Russell, are you ever clean!”

That’s about when the groomer looked at me, put the other dog down, and brought my dog out to the front. One look at Russell’s weepy eyes made me realize he had seen the whole thing.

In my own defence, it had been a long day (?). And I was tired (??). And the other dog was really very similar to ours (as similar as a Shitzu can be to a Jack Russell/Poodle). Excuses aside, there is nothing quite like doing the walk of shame back to our place, with Russell shaking his head in sad disbelief, and the groomer looking on from the shop in utter contempt for my blundering ways. Sigh. It doesn’t get much worse than this, boys. It doesn’t get much worse than this.

The only thing that’s left to say is I’m sorry, Russell. Oh, and I forgive you, Mom. For that day you forgot to pick me up from kindergarten. Because all of a sudden, I know just exactly how you must have felt. And this – this is not a feeling I’d wish on anyone - dog mothers and people mothers alike.

I’m going to be feeding Russell The Dog guilt-treats all weekend long. I better pick up another box.