Fur Baby Mama

This is for all the women who are not mothers in the traditional sense on Mothers Day.

Not all of us were able to have a child, even though we tried really hard. Not all of us wanted a child, even though we were told it was the natural order of things. Not all of us ended up with a partner of the opposite sex, and not all of us thought about or could have a child in our allotted time.

Instead, or as well as, this is for all the women with doggy fur babies on Mothers Day.

And here’s why:

We got up through the night with our tiny pups when they were new to the world, crying for the familiarity of their siblings, and needing to go to the toilet on the hour, every hour.

We carried out toilet training. Not with nappies and potties, but with mad dashes to the garden, treats, a whole sack load of newspaper, and LOTS of cleaning utensils.

We are so proud of them when they learn what we teach them. Instead of reading and writing, we have sit, and stay, and heel, and high fives. Our babies have such a capacity to learn and if we have the patience to teach them, they love it as much as we do.

We still ween our fur babies from puppy food to adult food, and eventually on to elderly food. We have to set up routines, deal with allergies and fussy eaters.

We watch over our babies when they are asleep, at peace with the world. Listening to their little snores, watching their feet scrabble at the air while they dream of chasing squirrels.

When our babies cry, they cant tell us what is wrong. We just have to try to learn what their cries mean, and give them love and attention and hope and pray for the best.

When our babies are ill, we still take them to the doctor, but their doctor is called a vet. We can’t tell them where we are going, but we do spell it…the V..E..T.

We hold our babies tightly when they are shaking with fear from hearing fireworks, or from being mistreated in the past.

We have to give attention to our babies. We wash them and groom them, and play with them to keep them healthy and happy, even when we would rather put our feet up at the end of a long day.

We have to be patient with them when they want to go out, and in, and out, and in, and out………..
……….and in……….

We can no longer go out for the day on a whim. We can’t leave our babies to fend for themselves for long periods of time. They need us constantly for food, for water, for play, for walkies, for love.

We too sometimes feel like an unpaid taxi service. We don’t take our babies to music classes or to football lessons, but we get up at the crack of dawn to walk them in the darkness of winter and in the pouring rain. Those walks are HARD work but we do it because we love them.

We have the unmitigated pleasure of picking up our baby’s poo in a bag, which is ALWAYS smelly and nearly always not as firm as it could be, while they stand and watch, with what sometimes looks like a grin on their face.

We treat our babies not with sweets and ice-creams, but with stinky fishy skins that they love, rawhide to chew on, and lots and lots of gravy bones. We should take out shares in gravy bones.

We take them to the park to play. Not on the swings, but instead to frolic with their four legged friends, to run and chase and woof, and to enjoy all the wonderful sniffs in the air.

We celebrate our babies’ birthdays, not with parties and streamers, but still with their favourite treats, and presents of the squeaky variety.

We would like to make our babies wipe their feet when they come in from mucky walks, but instead we have to chase them around the house with a towel, then scrub up the muddy paw prints from the floor.

We love it when our fur babies rest their heads on our knees, or curl up on our laps wanting a cuddle. We love it when they cover our faces in sloppy kisses, while at the same time vaguely wondering what was the last thing they licked.

We don’t need hand drawn pictures from our babies. Instead we have nose prints on all the windows. That is the best art you can have.

We don’t need to be told “I love you” in words. Our babies show they love us in every look, in every wagging tail, and in the best welcome in the world every time we come home to them.

We watch our babies grow from cute, helpless pups, through the annoying, know-it all adolescent years, on to become beautiful, loyal adults, and finally to be our elderly best friends that we want to keep by our sides forever.

We too have to let our babies go eventually. Empty nest syndrome is a little different for us though. Our babies don’t fly the nest to start the next circle of life, they leave us to cross the rainbow bridge, and wait patiently for us to come and find them again…. hopefully with gravy bones in our pockets.

So, I may not be a mother in the traditional sense. I may not get a handmade card, flowers, or breakfast in bed from my baby this year; but what I will get is to know that I have made a difference. I know that I am the whole world to my fur baby, and MY world is so much better just by having her in it.

Happy Mothers Day x