We have small kids, should we get a dog?
Short answer: no.
Slightly longer answer: that depends entirely on your capacity. But, still no.
Back in 2017, after being together for five years, my husband and I took our relationship to the next level. We decided together to take a gateway drug to parenthood.
We adopted a puppy.
Turns out, getting a dog and having a baby hold some parallel chords. My husband and I became overbearing, arrogant and somewhat controlling parents to our first baby: our Hungarian vizsla, Pilot. As a result, he became a very loved, very well-trained, if not slightly neurotic dog.
Three years later, he got the shock of his life after his mum disappeared for 24 hours, only to return with a tiny, mewling human-pup. His status as prized firstborn wobbled as his mum and dad adjusted to becoming parents. Slowly, he begrudgingly settled into big-brother status and came to love (mostly tolerate) his baby sister.
We had the perfect set-up, a dog who was young enough to grow up with the kids, but mature enough to be free of the intense puppy stage.
Two years and another human-baby later, our perfect set-up was taken from us. Our beautiful five-year-old dog tragically died after contracting a rare illness. The depth of our grief overwhelmed us entirely and stole any remnants of sanity I retained after a year of being mum to two kids under two. I made an anguished decision just weeks after his death. I could not live without a dog in my life. My kids could not live without a dog in their life.
We (I) decided to get a puppy.
We chose a different breed, feeling it would be too raw to bring another vizsla home so soon. This time we chose a brittany: another gundog breed, highly intelligent and requiring excessive amounts of exercise and stimulation.
For those thinking, why not just get an adult rescue dog?
You’re right. Like I said, my sanity had exited the building.
Six months later, still fresh in our grief and not able to go a full day without crying, we brought home our new puppy. We asked the breeder for two things in the pup for our family: it had to be affectionate and good with kids. The breeder chose a small female who she had nicknamed Buttercup for her sweetness and who we decided to name 'Juno'. The first few weeks were beautiful. It was chaos and it was challenging but her sweet puppy antics outweighed the challenges.
One year and four dead chickens later, I am beginning to wonder whether they called her Buttercup in irony.
To be fair, she is still very sweet. But she is also too intelligent and energetic for us to keep up with. We realised too late that we probably (read: definitely) don’t have the capacity for a puppy at this stage in our lives and our idealistic, grief-fuelled impulse is now biting us in the ass, quite literally.
After each chicken funeral, we have a serious discussion about whether or not she needs a different home. Our frustration is not helped by the incessant and unavoidable comparison to our late, very good boy. Each time, I decide that I cannot stomach losing another dog. I decide that I don’t want to explain to my children, who adore her despite the scratches on their skin, why she has to go away. And so we do what we are good at: avoiding difficult change by maintaining the status quo and berating ourselves for not doing better.
The result of the last round of self-flagellation? A new and improved dog-proof chicken coop. So, no more dead chooks. No more raging tantrums in the yard as I bury another egg-producing pet. Hooray.
Last week, I had dinner with a friend of mine who, emboldened by us getting a pup, decided to bring one into her own home. She too has two young kids and the conversation went something like this:
Her: “So, how’s your dog?”
Me: “Ummm, f**ked, yours?”
Her: “Oh my god, same.”
I’d been watching her progress with the pup through the filter of Instagram and was convinced that things were hunky dory and our situation was comparatively ruinous. It was heartening to hear that it’s not just our lamentable decision-making and choice of breed that had us struggling.
We can talk about the positives: how good it is for kids to grow up with a dog, the impetus they bring to get outside and exercise so it doesn’t destroy your yard. AND we can admit that parenting toddlers and young children means having next to no capacity for anything else. Thus, getting a puppy is a shit idea, no matter how enticing their velvet ears and corn-chip-smelling feetsies.
Do I regret getting her? Of course not.
Do I wish we waited until our kids were older to bring a puppy home: Abso-freakin-lutely.
In parallel with human-babies, I maintain that the eight to 12-month period is the most challenging. Now that we have emerged from the discordant crescendo of that stage, our life has hit a little more equilibrium in the dog department. She seems to be fitting into the flow of our life a little more and destroying a little less. I know from here on out, there will be ups and downs but we are through the worst of it. And I cling to that notion as if straining to hear the first bars of a sweet silence after a long performance of banging pots and incoherent yelling, punctuated by high-pitched barking.
