Six months after getting married, on Christmas Eve, hubby walked through the door with a black 5 week old fur ball. She was our Christmas present and neither of us were ready for her. It was our first real responsibility together. Sure, I’d grown up with all different kinds of dogs. We had a Basset Hound that escaped the house and wandered downtown, got caught jaywalking and brought back by the local cops several times and eating all my crayons so his poop was rainbow colored. Mom had a Maltese that ate the Thanksgiving turkey. My stepdad had a pair of Rottweilers that pounced on the rats in our backyard. So I was used to dogs, but yeah…what a way she changed our life. We named the little fluff ball Morrigaine.
Three years later, we adopted a Border Collie/Lab mix named Cadence who didn’t have a care in the world. She still doesn’t. She wantd love and to play ball. It took a while for Morrigaine and Cadence to get along, but they did.
Having a moment, I dragged hubby down to the pound. Call it thinking ahead, or raging hormones, I thought it would be good to have another dog. I know…three what was I thinking? Morrigaine was 9 and slow to get around. She didn’t much care about anything always being timid and shy, but she was our baby sleeping with us. At the pound, hubby wasn’t enthusiastic about getting another dog, but we–mostly me–decided to bring home a new puppy.
That’s how Briar came into the picture. Three dogs. Two alphas–the years of fighting we endured between Cadence and Briar weren’t fun. Not to mention Briar had been abused before we got her. She’s better, but still timid in many ways. Although, she’ll defend the yard. Briar’s a German Pointer/Whippet Mix so she’s fast and crazy on any day.
It came time we had to say goodbye to Morrigaine. That was three years ago and yeah… still not fun. Cadence is twelve and a half, but we play ball even with her arthritis. Briar has mellowed some. But over all I’m the MOMMA!
Dog hair is rampant. I trip over toys. They try to help me write my books by laying on my computer. They smother me with kisses and try to steal all of the peanut butter. But they’re my kids and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Unless you can find someway to rescue me… No seriously, they have me surrounded. They follow me to the bathroom and always inspect my food before I eat it, and even bathe me.
Help! I’m a dog mom. I’m not sure anyone can save me from the furries.
Crymsyn Hart - Paranormal and Horror Author 