I don't have any children. But I feel like I do. Most people look at me a little strange when I introduce my daughter, Molly. I have to admit that even the people closest to me still look at me like I'm right near the edge of losing it. My daughter has wonderful soft curly black locks, dark brown eyes, a black nose and a personality that doesn't stop. Molly is a toy poodle. My family consists of my parents, Molly, Moe and Tess (all toy poodles), Pepper and Cody (big dogs). I don't usually refer to them as family, though. They're pack.
It's a little tough being a DogMom because, in general, people don't consider that I could, or perhaps should, be as close and concerned for my furry daughter as they are over their human children. I have to admit that I'm much luckier than most canine parents, as my parents baby-sit for me when I'm at work and make sure that Molly doesn't find any harm to get into (she's good at that) while I'm away. They even refer to themselves as Grandma and Grandpa when talking about their relationship with her.
People grow up, have kids, then proudly show off pictures of what appears a great deal, to me, like a ruddy, wrinkly, kinda fuzzy peach attached to a cotton bag, snuggled deep inside blankets. Then they spend the next two or three years changing diapers and making bottles for that "bundle of joy." With Molly and I, all that baby stuff took a grand total, on the outside, of 6 months. I never had to clean up diapers when she was a baby and her biological Mom took care of the bottles until it was time for weaning.
Molly communicates her needs to me far better than most babies or children I've met. That could be because I don't know baby language or because I loose all patience before I have a chance to learn it, but the fault could easily be laid at my feet for not wanting to learn baby-language.
If babies are hungry, they cry. Of course, if they're wet and need a change, they cry. Then again, if they aren't feeling well or are injured, they cry. And what do they do if they're tired? Oh, yes. They cry. I'm told that a parent learns what their baby needs by the cry. Personally, I have an extraordinarily hard time swallowing that, but I'm not a human child Mom. I'm a DogMom.
When Molly's hungry, she paws and whines at me, then goes over to the food bowl, looks at me, looks at the bowl. It's like she's willing me to get up and put some food in the bowl. Clear and plain as a line of communication can get.
What I don't understand is that when a baby, one who can at least crawl or walk, needs to relieve themselves, they do their business in their diaper. That's the whole reason diapers were invented. That part I understand completely. The next action is what I don't get. Instead of going over to where the spare diapers are, picking one up and waving it around a little at their parents, they sit in that ick and cry. Without going through a number of different "standard" possibilities in order to narrow down to what's wrong, there's no way a parent could know that the baby needs their diaper changed!
Thankfully, Molly normally goes out the back door to the "pooh yard." However, if we're in the car or visiting someplace, she tugs at the leash or gets my attention somehow, then looks at me purposefully, then at the door and whines. Once again, I understand her perfectly. For the record, even non-dog people understand what she's saying to me. They get more than a little nervous about it, too. I simply have to guess they think a canine is the equivelant of a baby. Get a diaper on it, take it outside immediately or you'll end up with business on your shoe!
If I need a simple yes or no out of Molly, I ask her the question, maybe give her something related to the question to smell. If the answer is yes, she gets excited, rears up on her hind legs and waves her front paws. If the answer is no, she does a half snort half sneeze at me. Trust me, I know when the answer is no.
It's true that I'll never hold a conversation with her in the English language. But a few things I'm sure of are more than some humans can say they're sure of. Molly will always love me completely and without any long-term grudges, ever. Molly and I will spend as much time with one another as we can and we won't get bored of each other's company. She will never tell anyone else my secrets. She'll listen to my problems, fears, and joys, all without judging me. She'll want to play ball as soon as I get home from work.
I can't understand why anyone would chose to have human children and bother with the headaches that their continual crying causes. For myself, even with all the strange looks I get from people for being so involved with my Molly girl, I'll stick with being a DogMom.
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