Why is it that people think that every married woman over the age of 30 is dying to have children? Let me tell you something. They’re not. I’m 34 years old, I’ve been married for over seven years, and I would rather lose a limb than have a child. I have never wanted children. Not ever in my whole entire life. And, I will never want them. Not unless I wake up one morning and decide to completely change who I am as a person. Just because I like other people’s children does not mean that I want to have my own children. Children are not on my radar. They are nowhere to be found. I actually try really hard each month not to get pregnant. I remember one time my birth control pill broke apart when I popped it out of the pack. I panicked. I started licking my hand, the plastic pill pack, the floor. Anything I thought might have some crushed remnants of the pill that is meant to keep me from having a baby. I am just not a kid-person. Never have been. Never will be.
I am, however, a dog-person. I’m pretty much killin it as a dog mom right now. I’m a dog mom to my core. Like, I was born to be a dog mom. It’s really not all that different from being a human mom. Although, raising human children looks really fucking hard. In fact, it looks awful, which is exactly why I don’t ever want to do it. It’s far too hard and time-consuming. Raising dogs on the other hand? Yes, hell yes. Give me all the dogs. Dog mom AF. Dog mom ‘til I die.
Being a dog mom isn’t always easy though. You still have to put up with a lot of shit. And, I mean that in the literal sense, especially when you have more than one dog. Basically, there is dog poop everywhere. You’re either out pooper scooping the backyard every day or you’re stepping in dog poop every time you go outside. Or, you’re picking it up with those cheap-ass little plastic bags every time you take them out for a walk, crossing your fingers and toes, hoping to god the damn thing doesn’t rip open while doing so. If I had a nickel for every time I ended up with dog poop smeared on my hand, well, I’d have a lot of nickels. And then, you’re just standing there like, “Ok, now what?” You can wipe it on your clothes or in the grass. Or, you can just hold your hand out, away from your body, like it’s a ticking bomb and speed-walk the rest of the way home. Either way, it’s definitely a little gross.
Aside from cleaning up the poop, dogs do many other disgusting poop-related things. How about when they poop a little, but it doesn’t come out all the way? Anybody else ever had to assist their dog while taking a poop? Been there, done that. I’ve had to use a plastic bag to pull poop, strings, grass, and other things out of my dog’s butt before. Yes, it’s gross, but not as gross as cleaning up your baby’s blowout. Am I right?! Oh, and then there was that one time Oakley sharted on me. You know, when you fart and a little bit of shit comes out. Yeah, that was super fun. I was just sitting there on the couch, snuggling with my little boy, when I smelled something awful. I thought that Oakley had just passed some gas, but then I got up and saw a poop stain on my t-shirt. So gross.
It’s not all about poop though. There’s vomit, too. Oakley has a sensitive stomach and a habit of eating really gross stuff. He’s thrown up more times than I can count. It seems to happen more frequently whenever my husband is away or working nights. I get woken up in the middle of the night to that god-awful yacking sound that a dog makes when he’s about to throw up. Like seriously, if I’m ever in a coma, just bring a dog in my hospital room and have him start yacking like that. Nothing gets me up and out of bed faster. Loud noise in the house? Go back to sleep. Sounds like someone is breaking in? It’s totally fine. Probably just the wind. Dog yacking and about to throw up? Get the hell outta my way!
Lucy, on the other hand, doesn’t care. That girl will just throw up right on me. No warning whatsoever. One night, we were just snuggling on the couch and I was looking at her the way a dog mom looks at her precious baby girl. All of the sudden, she coughed and threw up in one simultaneous action. It was the most disgusting smell I’ve ever smelled. There were bits of her food in there. It was so nasty. Luckily, I had a blanket on my lap, so I just began screaming bloody murder at my husband to get it off of me. It went straight into the washer and we never spoke of it again. Pretty gross. Still, not as gross as a kid projectile vomiting all over the place. No way I could handle that.
Lucy also pees her bed sometimes when she’s left in her cage for too long. I swear that girl’s bladder is the size of a pea. It doesn’t help that homegirl will straight up guzzle an entire bowl of water right before I leave the house. “What’s that, Mommy? Oh, you have to go out for a few hours? Ok, hold on. Just let me chug this bowl of H2O real quick.” Then, when I try to let her out again right before I leave, she’ll go outside and just stand there, staring at me. “Umm, hellooooo. Don’t you have to pee. Oh, you’re just gonna wait to do it in your cage while I’m out? Oh ok, well then I’ll just go fuck myself.” And, as annoying as it is when one of them wakes me up in the middle of the night to go outside, I’m just glad that I won’t have another mess to clean up. Again, not as bad as having to get up multiple times in a night to tend to a screaming, crying baby. No thanks!
Being a dog mom really isn’t all that different from being a human mom. My life still revolves around their routine. Lucy wakes me up every morning, crying because she’s so hungry she just can’t. I feed them, let them outside, and they go back to sleep while I start my day. I take them for a walk in the morning and give them a treat when we get back. We do that every afternoon, as well. Lucy must eat dinner at 4pm sharp or she will flip out. I mean even now as I’m writing this, these two balloon heads are laying at my feet, moaning and groaning and complaining because they want to eat. Like, holy shit, calm down. You’re not gonna starve to death.
Just like any other mom, I have to buy them food, clothes, toys, and take them to the doctor. I have to give them a bath and cut their nails. I comfort them when they’re scared or sick. I make them a birthday cake each year for their birthday. I buy them a ton of Christmas presents and watch them unwrap them on Christmas morning. I make sure they know how much I love them. I even talk to them and ask them questions. “Hey buddy. Whatcha doing? Omg you just tripped! Are you ok? Does it hurt? What’s the matter?!” It doesn’t matter if we’re home alone or out for a walk, in front of other people. I have no shame in my dog mom game. I’m well aware that they can’t talk back, but I talk to them just like you talk to your human babies. They can’t talk back either. I don’t see the difference.
Just like being a human mom, being a dog mom is also very rewarding. You learn to take the good with the bad. I can’t look at my sweet little rescue dogs without smiling. (Except for that time they both came to the back door, belly deep in red Alabama mud, and I discovered that they had been digging a hole and eating worms. I don’t think I smiled then.) It is very rewarding to know that I gave these two pups a loving home and the best life I could possibly give them. I love their little doggie snores and how they let out a big sigh when they finally get comfortable. It lets me know that they feel safe and loved. That’s what it’s all about. They are my world and my world revolves around them. The same way it does for your children. Oakley and Lucy are my children. So please, stop asking me when I’m going to have kids. I already have two. One sweet, loving boy and one loyal, crazy girl. I’m as much of a mom as any other mom out there. Dog mom AF! Wouldn’t have it any other way!