Friday, September 30, 2016

Dear Hudson, a letter to my dog after baby.

Remember when our eyes met for the first time almost five years ago? You were in a cage with so many furry siblings and they were all crying and barking, but not you. You sat so still and you just stared right at me. I never believed in love at first sight, until you came along.

We picked you right up, and you immediately bit my long side braid. We laughed and knew we were in for a treat.

The very first night home with us we put you in the laundry room. I know, I know, you are still holding a grudge about that. Listen. I didn't claim to know it all. I thought that was what we were supposed to do. You were my first dog, you know. You cried for an hour and I cried along side you. I told your dad that I didn't think I could do this and that I must have made a terrible mistake. He pulled me in close, wiped my tears and said, you know the day we bring home our newborn you won't be able to send them back right? We laughed and laughed and I immediately felt better. He has been rooting for you since day one.

We picked you up from the laundry room and made a makeshift bed for you on the floor at the foot of our bed. Again. Sorry about that. I was convinced I had to have boundaries or something crazy like that. You slept the whole night without a peep. You just wanted to be close. I loved you for that. That morning I took too long getting ready and you peed on the makeshift bed we made for you. Day one of showing us who the boss was.

The next week when your dad went out of town for work, I broke all the rules. I pulled your tiny 9 week old 14 pound ball of fluff into bed with me and we never looked back. Actually, as I'm typing these words you are taking up half the bed with your head resting on my legs snoring like a madman. From 14 pounds to 80 in the blink of an eye.

When the weight of the world felt so heavy, you offered a helping paw. When I didn't think I would make it through the first year of marriage, you licked away every salty tear that fell out of my eyes. When I had surgery and had to endure months of the most painful physical therapy I have ever gone through, your sweet and oversized head always found my lap.

People told me I wouldn't know love until I had my first baby. They said, "Oh you think you love him? Just wait". But here we are. 3 weeks into having our "first baby" and they were so wrong. You, my sweet sweet lover dog, are still my favorite boy. 

I know the days aren't quite like they used to be. I see you watching me. Waiting for me. Wondering when we will take our walk or why we aren't snuggling in the mornings like we have done for the last five years. I see you trying your hardest to be a good big brother, even though I know the jealousy is killing you inside. 

But here's the thing, buddy boy. 

It won't always be like this. 

Will you wait for me? With me? 

It may never be just you and me again. And I hope you know that I get sad about that sometimes, too. This newborn stage. Its hard. It's so much harder than anyone every warned me. We are barely surviving. But we are. And I'm giving some of that credit to you. I know you think I can't see you right now. That I am so clouded by this new little life to even notice you. But I see you clearer than I ever have before.

I see you peeking around the corner when baby cries for hours at a time, making sure we're ok.

I see you stealing her toys begging for just a second of attention.

I see you waiting in her teepee looking on while I care for this new, tiny, hairless sister of yours.

I see you run to the door anytime I have an errand to run hoping I will take you with me, and I also see you get so excited when I say the word for you to come with.

I see you trying to find room in my lap when my nerves are paper thin and I don't know if I can make it until 6pm when daddy finally walks through that door.

I see you. I love you. I need you.

Hang with me a little longer, ok buddy? Because I promise you, we are going to make it. Next thing you know, this chick is going to be dropping Gerber Puffs right into your mouth from the highchair and you will see the light at the end of the tunnel more clearly than ever before. :p

I love you, buddy boy. I love you so much. No amount of babies will ever change that. You will always have a place here. And my lap will always have room for your oversized head.

Now meet me outside when baby naps so we can pick up on that great game of fetch we've got going.