My first child

Dog lovers are a unique breed. For many of us, our dogs were our first foray into parenthood. For most, it's the first time we are responsible for feeding and taking care of someone besides ourselves. We buy them toys and some of us even buy clothes and accessories for our hairy children. The close-knit relationship between dog and man is so prevelant that any pregnancy/parenting book or magazine includes a section for introducing four-legged children to the two-legged sort.

My dog is no exception, Moochie is actually a step-child, Orson had him when we met. At some point during our relationship he became my dog. My first child. He went everywhere with me, the grocery store, the gas-station, I even snuck him into my job at a women's clothing store once. Which was no small feat seeing as how Moochie is a 70 pound Rottweiler mix.

After Heather was born, Moochie was still very much a part of our family. But he didn't go in the car with us much. He found himself ousted from the bed and relegated to the floor. But he took it all in stride and loved her from the day we brought her home. When the boys came home, he was made to live outside for almost a year. I begged my husband to find a home for him because I feel as though dogs who are brought up as companions should be treated as such and not be kept outside. Working dogs are a whole category unto themselves.

I finally brought the Moocher back in the house much to the delight of the children. People are always a little put off when I tell them I have a rottweiler. But truth be known, he is semi-retired. He is middle-aged (pushing 7 years old), and will only be bothered to get up to eat, drink and go outside. Don't get me wrong he will not hesitate to take off the hand that is raised to me or my children. But he choses to be a silent observer as opposed an obvious aggressor.

I don't know much about animals, but I know that my dog has a heart. He cares about some things more than others. If I come home from a long day out, and I don't immediately enter the house with three children in tow, I receive persistent whining and crying until all of the children are accounted for. He sits up with me every night in the living room until I go to sleep. he even knows that I always forget something and get in and out of bed 5 or 6 times and only then will he take his place by my bedside. And God forbid I stay up late! If I have not taken myself to bed by around 1am, I will be accosted by the groans only an 80 year old man who's always waiting for his wife makes as he heads off to bed tired of waiting for me (even though he was sleeping just fine in the living room).

Occasionally I wonder if my feelings towards him have changed at all since the kids have been born. Tonight, someone decided to put his food up on a counter where he would not be able to reach it. So, I put it down in it's assigned place and before the sound of the bowl hitting the floor had faded completely I could here him huffing and puffing his way into the kitchen to inspect the goods. He sniffed the bowl a few times and then gave me the "why do you keep giving me this crap look". I immediately responded out loud "you know there are lots of hungry dogs out there that would be happy to eat that!"

As my dog began to eat his Kibbles N Bits with the shamed expression only seen in chastised children and dogs, I realized that yes he is now and always will be one of my children. My first child, he may be smelly and hairy, but I love him and I am grateful for his quiet companionship and unyielding devotion.