My Other Child

Most days, these virtual pages are devoted to my alternate musing and ranting regarding SB, but today I'm going talk about my other child, that of the dog variety.

Now for many, having a "real" baby, makes them realize that a dog is just a dog and now that they've traded up, they can start ignoring or worse, mistreating their pet with a clear conscience. For us, the opposite was true.

Once SB arrived, Foz gained all kinds of new privileges, including the right to sleep in our bed. And that was a big gain for him - if you've ever shared a bed with another adult AND a 100 lb. pit bull, you know what I'm talking about. But he deserved it - he'd never asked us to have a baby, and after all, he was here first.

At this point you're fixated on the words "pit bull," wondering what kind of irresponsible maniacs would let their newborn cavort with this beast. Will he not eat her in a mad, jealous rage? Will he not tear her limb from limb because he, well, can?

Chances are, not so much. Foz has been the patient victim of hit-and-runs with strollers (both the toy and the real varieties), the hapless recipient of slaps to the muzzle. He's been fallen on, tripped over, poked, and stepped on. He meets these insults by fleeing from a creature 1/5 his size.

Of course there is an upside to having SB around. Besides the bed, there's the bonus Otter's mealtimes, when, more often than not, at least a third of the meal ends up in Foz's mouth. There are also the daily hugs SB doles out to him, though I'm not sure how much they're appreciated. But they are in love - as any two siblings would be.

So today, on Foz's 5-year anniversary of his rescue, when he insinuated himself permanently and irreplaceabley into our lives, I pause to appreciate him in all his smelly, dogly, wet-nosed, snoring, farting glory. Because I'm a happier mom for having him.