I like to refer to him as my unexpected pregnancy.
Do I keep him or put him up for adoption?
When I first brought my little stray pooch home to Whistler, fully intending to put him up for adoption at WAG, I had no idea he would be bunking with me for good.
Apparently, I was the only one who didn’t know.
My friends, family, and even new acquaintances all knew beforehand.
After trying to shuffle him off on two families and the sudden realization of how empty the house was afterwards, I figured it out.
And with his cute teddy-bear face – hence his name Teddy – how could I ever have expected otherwise.
Now I know all mothers like to brag and think their little one’s cute and I am no exception.
He is so cute he was asked to pose for Modern Dog Magazine last week in Squamish. Check out the December issue.
I felt like a stage mom as I ushered him around the photo shoot, dressing him in little jackets and conversing with other dog owners about the secrets of pooch motherhood.
I didn’t realize my newly-found motherhood until one night I was tearing out the door to get to a friend’s dinner party. I was late, only the usual trying on half a dozen outfits wasn’t to blame for the mad dash. Teddy took a firm stance on disliking tuna that evening and no time for the waiting-out game, I fried up chicken as quickly as I could.
Motherhood was further confirmed as I realized he had smeared a muddy paw down the front of my new velvet jacket on the drive over. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I will never be clean again and given up on the lint brush and blankets once draped over all the furniture. It wasn’t really my choice: he kept moving the blankets out of the way anyways.
I am officially a mother: I can’t carry on a decent phone conversation without shouting at him to get out of my laundry or talking about him constantly.
Motherhood of the four legged kind is nothing like raising a human baby by the way. Whoever made the linkage between baby and pooch must have had a boarder collie or something because the last time I checked, six-month-olds don’t sit still in a purse, nor quietly amuse themselves on the floor at work.
They are a bit of work, but in taking care of him, I seem to be taking care of myself: three meals a day, lots of walks and more time spent at home.
I’m a single mom and it shows. He rarely sits at my work desk anymore these days, preferring my editor Bob’s feet or sports reporter Andrew’s.
He is definitely a man.
He sleeps on his back with all four legs and a tail shooting straight up in the air. He snores. So loud, he woke me up one morning.
He even has his own man cave he retreats to if he is upset with me spending too much time in front of the computer.
He might be gay, although pet owners assure me male dogs try to hump each other to prove their dominance. I am wondering if my dad’s purchase of Teddy’s rainbow collar might have foreshadowed something.
Teddy has successfully won me at least two years leeway of not being asked by my parents when I am going to settle down and have children.
The happy grandparents welcomed their new "grandson" and sent him home ridiculously spoiled. Teddy prefers barbecued chicken to microwaved now – thanks a lot dad.
I am thinking they were getting revenge for all of those times I came home from my Nana and Papa’s flying high on the Frosted Flakes or Fruit Loops they fed me just before mom picked me up.
A new pooch-carrying purse, a fur-lined rain jacket and a hand-knit specialty sweater ordered, my parents let loose the years of pent-up grand parenting.
"First time grandparents?" I remembered a pet shop owner asking while my dad was having a serious discussion on the need for dog booties in Whistler.
He is so much fun. We share my work chair while I write. We’ve discovered amazing hiking trails on the mountain. I wake up to a little face staring at me ready to play every day. He picks out, or should I say up, great dates. He’s the perfect dog, but I guess all parents say that.
