YO MAMA: How having a baby changed my relationship with my dog
One afternoon when I was 23 years old, I went to look at a dog. Her Kijiji ad was brief: two-year-old border collie-husky, spayed, high-energy, good with people and other pets. The single picture of her was blurry, catching her in mid-sprint with her tongue lolling out and her wild blue eyes almost jumping out of the photo. I gave the man $100 and she jumped in the back of my car without a second thought. We never looked back.
My husband and I named her Isis (after this Bob Dylan ballad) but I mostly just call her Pal — because that’s what she’s been for the past decade: a friend, companion, a sidekick and a protector. She’s the type of cool dog that is well-mannered enough to go to brunch at an outdoor patio but can kick it into high gear for a sprint up the mountain. She’s a special pup — which, I know, most dog-lovers will say that about their pet — but seriously, she’s no ordinary canine.
My dog is such a big part of my life that I was nervous about how having a baby might affect things. Pal and I had a pretty good thing going and had reached a mutual understanding on several key points: there would be two walks a day, at 6:30 a.m. and 5 p.m., with an additional longer hike on the weekends. Breakfast and dinner would be served promptly after each of the walks. She would come to town regularly with me on outings and enjoy plenty of car rides in the passenger seat. In return, I would get the occasional affectionate nuzzle or handshake; Pal is not an overly cuddly dog. She is far too independent for that.
She watched my growing belly with interest and, as many mothers have reported, grew more attentive and protective over me. She kept close tabs on my whereabouts. Sometimes I would glance over at her sleeping body as I made my way to the bathroom and see one eyelid open up, checking.
I adhered to our two walks a day agreement throughout my pregnancy which kept me feeling strong and healthy as I approached labour and delivery. I’ve always said you don’t need a gym pass, just get a dog.
The day my contractions started, Pal was a godsend (so were you, hubby, so were you…) It’s no wonder people use dogs in therapy. They have such a comforting and calming effect. She stayed right by my side while I laboured at home, even putting up with my desperation for snuggles. When it was time to leave for the hospital, my husband had to carry her out the door to my in-laws because she wouldn’t voluntarily leave my side. It reduced me to a heap of hormonal tears.
I couldn’t wait to get home from the hospital to see my dog and introduce her to this thing that had been growing inside me for months and months. Would she, a mother herself to a litter of puppies, make the connection?
She gave one sniff to the baby and then canvassed my legs up and down, checking me over. Where had I been? What had happened to me? I crouched down and felt her wet nose on my cheek. Everyone else was infatuated with the baby but she was mostly just interested in me, and I loved her for that.
She didn’t want much to do with the baby, but because she now followed me everywhere, and the baby was attached to me, we became a little trio. Pal never skipped out on accompanying me on a trip to the nursery for diaper changes, even in the middle of the night. I’m pretty sure she, too, was suffering from sleep deprivation because she sometimes fell asleep standing up.
I felt guilty a lot of the time. Pal still stood by the door around 6:30 am for her walk, although we seldom made it out before 9 am. At first, I could only manage short walks and I worried that Pal wasn’t getting enough exercise. When my gracious sister-in-law offered to take her out for some walks I immediately agreed. But Pal wouldn’t leave the carport. She scratched at the door until I let her back in and she resumed her post.
When we started going out and about, Pal came too. But the seating arrangements had changed. I could only fit the stroller in the front seat, so Pal had to sit cramped up in the back with the kid. She looked at me with a half confused, half heartbroken look.
At times, I wished things could go back to the way they were. I wanted to throw on a pair of hiking boots, jump in the car with my dog and set off for a mountaintop adventure.
I hadn’t known how all-consuming a baby would be. There was only so much of myself that I could give to another living being, and I worried that Pal might think I didn’t love her anymore. Would our special bond be broken by the arrival of this new baby who demanded so much time and attention?
But she proved her loyalty time and time again. Pretty soon, I realized she was taking me for walks and not the other way around. Thanks to her, I got out of the house every single day for some fresh air. After we’d had a bad night and slept in she would patiently sit beside her food bowl to remind me to feed her. And when I needed it most, she would give me a little nudge with her soft muzzle, something akin to a pat on the shoulder. I was so anxious about not being able to take care of her the way I had been, but all the while she was taking care of me. That’s what friends do.
After a year, things are finally getting back to “normal” or at least we’re all settling into our new normal. Schedules are more predictable now, walks are longer again, and we’re all sleeping better. Usually, the kid comes along in the stroller or hiking backpack, but occasionally, Pal and I still get out just the two of us, like old times. That’s when I roll the windows down all the way and she gets to sit in the front seat, her head hanging out the window, lips flapping. I reach over and, with a big smile and some kind words, rub her head. Just a couple of pals.
She’s still not sure about the kid. He, on the other hand, adores her. Although she often keeps her distance from his clumsy footsteps and grabby hands, there are, increasingly, moments of meaningful interaction between them: a lick on the face which generates a giggle, the “accidental” dropping of cheese off the high chair, the excitement they both get when I grab the leash. I can already tell they will be pals too.
— Charlotte Helston gave birth to her first child, a rambunctious little boy, in the spring of 2021. Yo Mama is her weekly reflection on the wild, exhilarating, beautiful, messy, awe-inspiring journey of parenthood.
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