I never thought of myself as a mother. I mean, I don’t have any kids (thank you, Jesus!) so, really, why would I? For the longest time, I didn’t even know if kids were something I wanted in my future. Society instills these social norms which expect us to grow up, get married, and have children, and one day I thought – what if I don’t want to?
My mom was okay with it, my boyfriend at the time was not. Judging by the look on his face, you would have thought I said I wanted to chop off his balls instead of I may not want kids.
Then, one day in November, I brought home a little ball of fluff who, overnight, turned me into the thing I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to become: a mom.
Raising a puppy by myself is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done – I’m not ashamed to admit it. My single girl bachelorette lifestyle was about to change. No more “drinks after work” which inevitably always turned into wild nights out in downtown Boston, no more spur of the moment weekend getaway trips, no more doing what I wanted when I wanted, because I was now responsible for another life.
That first month my personal hygiene took a backseat (sorry, I’m not sorry). My hair was always greasy and in a bun, I hardly changed out of sweats, and I’m pretty sure I had dog pee SOMEWHERE on my body at all times. I was tired. I was sloppy. I smelt like a mixture of Chipotle burritos, urine, and wet dog pretty much all of the time.
My life was turned upside down, and yet, I couldn’t have loved this little ball of fluff more.
This past Tuesday was one of the scariest days of my life.
After work, my sister and I picked up the dogs to take them to the dog park. The dogs piled into the backseat, we blasted the A/C and we were on our way! As we turned onto a small side road about 10 minutes away from the park, all of a sudden I heard a window in the backseat roll down. I instantly knew that, unlike my car, Steph didn’t always have her window locks on.
Buddy, unknowingly, had placed his paw onto the handle and accidentally began to roll down the window. I immediately screamed at Steph to roll up the windows and put the lock on and started to crawl into the back seat. That very instant, Buddy fell out the window.
I watched, unable to reach him, as he fell out of the moving car onto the pavement. The next few seconds were a blur, yet I felt like I was moving in slow motion. I screamed bloody murder. I opened the door and jumped out before Steph even had time to stop. I sprinted over to Buddy, who thankfully was up and walking around in a circle – obviously dazed and confused.
He was alive. And walking. And looked to be relatively unharmed.
Then I saw the blood on my hands, and realized that my baby was hurt. I screamed again, I cried, and went straight to the vet to get him checked out. And he was fine. He’s got a few cuts on his forehead, nose, and chin, but other than being a little sore – he’s fine. He’s healthy.
And so I cried again.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, God.
I am so thankful that besides a few scratches, my little boy is unharmed. No broken bones, no internal bleeding, nothing but a busted lip and a knock to his (incredibly handsome) head.
Because, man, I love this dog. I love the way he chews his paws in the middle of the night. I love the way his eyes peer at me from the corners when he’s too lazy to turn his head. I love the way he unconditional loves everyone he meets. I love the way he jumps into the pool with a big belly flop.
I love how he rolls to the ground and plays dead after I yell at him for chewing up yet another pair of shoes. I love walking into the backyard and finding him laying in the sun with 8 sticks surrounding him, because just one clearly wasn’t enough. I love his intensity as he searches the trees for squirrels, hoping he might catch one. I love the way that he uses my face as a human pillow.
I love him, and I’m so, so happy that he’s okay.