I am 27 years old, single woman, living with my parents and a few weeks back the impossible happened. My parents finally let me and my brother get a dog. Yes, if you are familiar with a punjabi household, you know that the response we get when we ask for a pet, is that “we already have a pet! YOU!” And their experience has not been good so far, unfortunately. I don’t blame them and my brother and I have been quite a handful. But when we brought home Little Black Dog Whisky (clever name, right?) things changed.
He was barely 30 days old and so little! Could fit in a child’s arm perfectly. And this is my first time as a pet parent and honestly, I have been scared of dogs all my life. My best friend got bitten twice when we were young and looking at her go through all that pain, made me very cautious. But, now that friend has 2 children of her own. It was time for me to start practicing as well. Being a mother that is. And then the most horrific thing happened!
The first hour of whisky coming home, I was just observing everyone’s behaviour. How they were talking to him, holding him, letting him sniff them and not becoming a statue when he was at their feet. It all felt new to me. So I, after taking my sweet time, held him in my arms, for the first time. The motherly rush was wicked! But, I felt something wet on my fingers. I yelled “the little rascal is peeing on me!”. Then I put him back on the chair. Checked if he actually did pee on me and was surprised that he didn’t and just then, in the split of a second he rolled down from the chair.
Just like that! My hand was on him the entire time, but it still was on the floor now. And I felt like the worst mother! My kid fell from my own hands (so it felt). He didn’t injure himself fortunately, rather scarred me for life . I went to my room crying! The guilt of hurting him kept me up for a week. I apologised to him and he licked my hand. So, I guess he forgave me.
Slowly, I am understanding how to feed him, keep him safe, and run after him. Most importantly cleaning his poop and piss. My parents, who are tired after raising me and my brother, are playing with this one now. It felt right. And I felt bad too. It should be my kids that my parents play with, cleaning his poop and piss. All because I can’t take all the responsibility for sure! Especially after that fall. I am going to have to trick them all into caring for my child. I hope my future husband and mother in law are not reading this blog.
Two weeks back, Whisky got sick. Puking and pooping away all through the house. My brother who sleeps with him and does most of the care taking was not at home and I had just come home from work. But when whisky didn’t try to climb up on me, or even run towards me with glee in his eyes, I knew something was wrong. When I held him, he made a whining noise. Telling me as if he was in pain. I caressed him and he slept in my arms while I prayed he would get better. But when he puked again at midnight, my brother and I just rushed him to an emergency room. We barely slept for the next week. Looking at whisky getting jabbed, crying in pain broke me. But he is one brave boy! He recovered soon after and is now being a pain in the ass.
He bites everyone and everything, which his vet says is normal for his age. He doesn’t let my brother sleep and gets way too excited when he smells me preparing his meals. He is too forgiving and loving. The way he played with friend when she visited made me feel like a proud mama. And I am very protective of him and refuse to take advantage of his cuteness and exploit him for followers on social media. But I can proudly say that he is a “GOOD BOY!”
