Before we had children, Penelope was my baby. I remember crying into her fur, 9 months pregnant with my first, promising her that things wouldn’t change. Well, three children later, and I haven’t walked her in a year. (All dog responsibilities now fall under husband duty) She drives me crazy biting her paws constantly. She barks viciously at anyone who dares walk by the house with another dog. She destroys stuffed animals almost daily. She swipes pb&j sandwiches off plates left within her reach. She smells up the house and hides pacifiers underneath the deck.
But she lets the kids ride her like a horse. And somehow knows just to carry “Bo-Bo” rather than rip him apart. She doesn’t care when the kids play with her food, and will patiently be “walked” around the house by my two year old. I forget that most dogs would not put up with such things.
She is no longer the center of my world. She has comfortably adjusted to her role as the well-loved family dog, just where she should be.
And she couldn’t be better at it.