Chasing Ri and Bo

My First Baby, My Fur Baby, Lexy

People who think they will test their parenting skills and commitment by having a dog are as equally smart, as they are stupid, just plain stupid. Back in 2008, I begged Pat for a puppy. I had to have one. It became my obsession, and for an early Christmas gift, I received this sweet bundle of fur, Lexy.



She immediately peed on me. A warning sign that I should have taken more seriously, as a foreshadowing of how our life together would play out.

Lexy is 10 pounds of pure love. Sweet, sweet, love. Unfortunately for her, and for me, she has a very big heart, and a very small brain. And I mean really small. 

The dog is untrainable. I tried, I really did. We even attempted puppy school. I was told on week two that Lexy, my sweet, sweet, Lexy, was not “puppy school material.” I was outraged at first, but after trying to train her on my own at home, quickly realized that their bold statement and labeling of my dog was completely spot on. 

Pat and I have spent the last 8 years cleaning up after Lexy. Cleaning up her accidents off of the floor. Throwing away the socks (and underwear) that she has torn into pieces. Spent money shampooing and re-shampooing our carpets. And, the best of all, dealing with garbage. There is nothing worse than coming home after a long day at work, with both kids, and all of their gear, to see the contents of your overflowing trash can spewed all over the kitchen floor. It is the WORST.

Not to mention, Lexy prefers to go dumpster diving on days when I’ve decided to clean the fridge. Old spaghetti, check. Chicken breast packages, check, check. Old baby food, yep, got that too.  All of the bacteria-ridden food that you’ve thrown away in the hopes of never seeing again, displayed for you to enjoy all over your clean kitchen floor. It is enough to make you want to cry, and trust me, I have.

Though my love for her has never wavered, I have had fleeting moments of regret.  Why?

She wakes me up earlier than my kids. Not cool. Not cool in the least. The last thing I want to do at 5 AM is drag my sleep-deprived-self out of bed so my dog can relieve herself outside instead of on our bedroom floor.

She escapes from our yard all the time.  This past weekend, she disappeared without her collar on. So, Riley, Bode, and I did the responsible thing and went looking for her. Did I mention this was at 6:45 in the morning? If our neighbors had any doubt that we were crazy, we definitely sealed the deal by walking up the street, all of us in our jammies, Riley driving her pink car, screaming, “Treats, we have treats!”

She steals food from our children. Literally, she takes things right out of their pudgy, little, hands, and then I have to deal with sobbing tears from my 3 and 1-year old(s). It is so frustrating and heartbreaking all at the same time.

She likes to lick herself at the most inconvenient times. A lot. Especially, when I am trying to sleep. Not that there is a good time for a dog to clean themselves (gross), but 1 AM is definitely not ideal.

She barks at everything. Literally, everything. Noises, her own shadow, and my favorite, absolutely nothing, nothing at all….

I’d be lying if I said that it’s been all fun and games. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t contemplated making my life easier and giving her to someone else (my parents). But, when push comes to shove, she is my baby. My first baby. My fur baby. And, I love her. Our kids love her. And, deep down, and I mean really, really, deep down, Pat loves her. She is part of our family. She makes us whole.


Tell me about your fur-baby, the good, the bad and the ugly!


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