Pet Parenting

 This week has been rough on my family. Below is a post I put in a "Parents of Paws (Childless not by Choice)" group on Facebook describing why it's been a rough week and also reflecting upon what it takes to be a parent to furbabies only. I'm reposting this here as it's something I'm passionate about and something that is near and dear to my heart. TW for Pet euthanasia, Grief and Loss: 

Originally posted 22 August 2023: 

Yesterday I lost my 17 year old Maltese terrier Gizmo. We sent him over the rainbow bridge devastated that age and dementia had taken him away from us long before his heart stopped beating. He was my first dog, and amongst the tears I got to thinking......

We really are a brave and intrepid bunch.

Our lot in life is one of unsinkable optimism. We give our hearts in wild abandon to bottomless eyes and snuffly wet noses with the FULL and complete knowledge that our hearts will be broken; knowing full well that the likelihood of us outliving our little ones is extremely high. We do it knowing that we will have to nurse them into old age. We will pay for medications, for heat pads, for special foods, for blankets and coats and special beds, and steps and ramps and vet bills - Yet we do it anyway.

Imagine if parenting children were like that - imagine if you went through all of that effort, that pain, that energy, that LOVE, knowing that 10-15 years down the line you would lose that child, often having to actively MAKE that decision? Imagine then that you sign up to that, over, and over, and over, and over again and each time you will pick yourselves back up, put yourselves back together, take one step, then another, and then another, and then eventually you WILL try again.

Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of parents out there that DO go through the loss of a child - but imagine if that were basically a certainty?

We subject ourselves to this and give our WHOLE hearts for THEIR whole life, knowing that the end will come and that the end will be unspeakably painful. And we do it knowing that once they are gone there will be a hole in your heart and in your life that you will never ever fill.

It's not something I actively thought about when I brought home my first kitten at the tender age of 21. I sent that beautiful boy over the rainbow bridge just over a year ago having been diagnosed with stage 4 kidney failure about 4 months prior. He was one month shy of 18 years of age. It's certainly not something I thought of when I bought Gizmo at the tender age of 23. But as I get older, and as the wound of childlessness scabs over, its something I think about more and more.

People often tell me that being a parent is the hardest job in the world. Maybe they're right, unfortunately I won't ever have that lived experience. But I do know this - you and I dear reader, are a special breed of human. We surrender ourselves to a selfless, unconditional, pure love that only a pet parent can fully appreciate - but we do so knowing that the flip side of that coin is pain and loss.

And we'll do it again.

And on a personal note:

Goodbye my little mate - until we meet again x

#worthit

The "Check In"

 On the weekend I took my 8-month-old labradaughter Charli for a private dog training consult to assist us with her 'lead etiquette' (I prefer to call it "she's a bloody nightmare on a walk" but hey that's just me!). During that session, the trainer gave us some amazing info and one of these was to be aware of what she called "checking in" - this is what she calls the dog looking around at you and 'checking' on you when on a walk. I've always joked over the years with Indie (my 7 year old lab) that its her way of going "you still there Mum?" but I've never called it a 'check in' per say. The idea is that when the dog is pulling on the lead, you make them 'check in' with you to get their attention and to correct the behaviour. 

This reminded me of a bit of a revelation I had a few weeks ago. There's been a LOT of study into the links between conditions like C-PTSD, Anxiety and OCD, but one thing that I had never connected until recently was the link between WHATEVER my letters happen to be (the jury is still out on that one!) and obsessive 'checking in'. 

For example, picture this - I'm sitting in my living room reading. My husband walks in the room, and I instantly feel the emotional 'temperature' of the room shift. Something is wrong. I know something is wrong because I can feel it in the atmosphere. The words "how are you baby" leave my lips before I know what's happening. He says "I'm ok". I'm not convinced. "What's wrong?" is my next question. "Nothing" is the response. I'm still not convinced. I poke, I prod, I cajole, I banter - I do WHATEVER I have to do to figure out what the problem is. This DRIVE to know what the matter is might SOUND like genuine concern, but really the underlying motivation is one of fear. I'm afraid of the answer, so I need to know. I need to know what I'm dealing with so that I can do whatever I need to do to address it. It's the same reason I don't deal well with being pulled up about something AFTER the fact - I don't deal with that at ALL - being emotionally blindsided was a regular experience of my childhood, and not just in 'big life changing event' kind of ways. I guess this is the legacy of having a father who was an EXPERT at gaslighting. JUST when you are lulled into a sense of security, it's just that moment when you let your guard down that you can be sure the other shoe would drop and your whole world could stop on a dime. 

That level of emotional unpredictability has left me with deep deep scars. 

Another example of this happened to me just this morning - I was working in my home office when I heard my husband drop an F bomb in the kitchen which is way down the hallway at the other end of the house. When I'm a bit emotionally vulnerable, just this alone can be triggering for me - something BAD has happened, I don't know what it is, and I NEEEEEEED to know. 

But do I? 

I stopped myself in that moment and thought, wait, this is my drive to emotionally check in, but do I REALLY need to check in right now? 

Sure I could have hollered down the hallway something along the lines of "what now?" or "what's wrong" but instead I stopped myself and held my tongue. And you know what? He didn't even end up telling me WHAT was wrong. It got resolved without me. I was not required, and if I had been required, I'm sure my husband would have called out to me and I would have dealt with it. But he didn't need me, and I didn't need to know. 

It's yet another insidious side effect of having a lifetime of hypervigilant behaviours that I have to somehow overcome. The roots of C-PTSD run deeper than sorghum in the summertime - I just need to slowly unpick each one and break these habits that only seek to sink their claws into my skull deeper and deeper.