Calm down, my male readers (reader?) This is not a whish-key giveaway…And no, this is not a tale where mommy just lets it all hang out, lets the kids run rampant and do what ever they want, while mummy goes to search for the answers to life/parenthood/sanity at the bottom of a whiskey bottle… (although, sometimes, I do feel driven that way…even though I never did develop a pallete for whiskey)…No. This is where I’d like to introduce you to our furry child, named Whiskey.I’ve mentioned her before (in my introductions), and is loved and very much a part of lives, just as any family member would be. Only difference is, she’s yay-high, and seriously hirsute! 🙂
She’s essentially a rescue ( In December 2012, as a five week old puppy, someone dumped her in front of my darling bud’s front yard, and drove off. Yes, I know: that person is an excellent contender for douchebag poster child. Some people). Long story short, hubby and I adopted this adorable little jack russell/pavement special cross, and our world went a little topsy turvy – as with any addition to the family goes!
She was immediately loved and adored by all of us…including Charlie, our other rescued girly, despite her feisty nature.Only problem was, I fell pregnant a month later after adopting her.
Now whilst this may produce a frown on your face and a caveman grunt from your throat, as to “huh? problem?! Wtf do you mean problem?”. Well you see, the thing is, whilst I have 100% healthy pregnancies (thank God), I’m that kinda preggo that gets hits (no, clobbered) by the tired stick the very instant I fall pregnant. And by “instant” I mean like one or two days after insemination. (yes, my preggy “symptoms”, rear their ugly heads that soon.) I poop you not.
As a preggo, I honestly felt like I took a handful of sleeping pills, and even if you think I’m wide awake while you sit and chat with me, Im actually not. My eyes are just open, and bodily functions are operating on auto-pilot. So please don’t ever be offended if I don’t reply to your question, because all I heard(if anything) was “wharp, wharp, wharp, wharp” like Charlie Brown’s teacher. Needless to say, boardroom meetings were incredibly challenging for me for each of my pregnancies.
Added to that preggy-zombie shuffle that I do throughout the entire first trimester, I also tend to have seriously high relaxin hormone levels, which equates to me having a twisted pelvis, from about day six of pregnancy. (Yessss, once again, I feel it that soon.) And that beaut of a companion sticks around all of my pregnancy – hence my (almost) well-versedness with the pregnancy-massage world.(see here and here)
So all this talk about me,me, me– how does it relate to my four-legged furry child? Well, there’s a thing that doggies need, you see. It’s called “walkies”…and it just so happened to be the very thing that my twisted pelvis did NOT want. Walkies was the devil, as far as my pregnant pelvis was concerned.
But there was this incredibly pretty doggie, staring back at me with anticipation. Ears pricked up, and tail wagging, had this wonderful verve for life, and oddly reminded me of my-pre-children-self days: young, fit, nimble and inexhaustive energy ball, always up for some fun, and bets for (almost) anything. (I still am all of that, except for the whole “young, fit, nimble” thing. And I still am bets for almost anything, but if only I had the energy to do it) 😉 This doggy deserved to be shown how wonderful this world could be (especially after being so heartlessly abandoned): long runs on the beach, trips to the doggy-friendly markets and winefarms, the pure thrill and mind blowingness of “fetch” (lol) and sit. Stay. Lay. Ohhhh, the possibilities were endless. (Actually, they are not endless, as my list proves, but you get the point.)
So I tried my best, as did hubby. But hubby was already picking up my preggo slack in other areas, even though he came home much later than I did. There were walkies, if infrequent, there were obedience classes and there were self-made 5am training sessions every morning with Whiskey before I went to work(as I had done with all my other previous doggies).
But as my belly grew, and the tired stick grew into a branch, (and then grew into an actual tree), my ability to invest in our lovely Whiskey became less and less, until such time that she had to settle for shared cuddles with my eldest beasty.
That’s right, as a zombie-preggo, I also had a very active toddler to also keep up with. So clearly, our darling Whisks was getting a bit of the short-end of the attention stick. (Seems to be a lot of sticks in this post)
However, now that my youngest beasty is a year, I feel that I’ve finally shaken off that baby fog, equilibrium is being achieved again and am now able to stretch myself even more. Particularly so in the doggy department.
So I bring to you, Whiskey Wednesdays: where I will share our moments as a family that we have with our doggy child. On a wednesday. Once or twice a month. Either because we learnt something new, or to share how we achieved some awesome animal behavioural improvements, and tips. Or, just because she was darn cute that I had to share with you.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m no expert (I’ll leave that to the Caesar’s of this world), but just to share what worked for us as a family with furry four-legged family members. And if you like it, feel free to give me a treat. 😉 Or better yet, feel free to jump in and share YOUR tips with us in the comments area!