The dog that got away (and the big lesson I learned)

The kids have been asking for a dog for the past year. Our persistent nine year old child Connor, even wrote his dad an email claiming he would give up electronics for the year and attempted to negotiate on several occasions. I did my best to stay out of it.

Connor’s diligence resulted in a compromise. We called a family meeting and agreed if the older kids would take care of a pet then a hamster or guinea pig was okay. It was my job to start our research. I began hyper-local and took them to a neighbor’s house whose family includes a hamster, dog, and gecko (genuinely hoping for the hamster to win the popularity contest.)

Nobody agreed on the same animal so we set out to the closest pet shop I could locate. When’s the last time you went to a pet shop? Did they always smell so awful and hardly have any animals? I thought Petco went out of business? Nope.

I was indifferent about what kind of animal would fit with our family because (actually) I didn’t want a pet at all. Yet, committed to our agreement, I let them explore. My younger ones were attracted to the colorful fish in the tanks. Connor insisted he wanted an animal that was large enough to talk to and snuggle with. Maggie looked at hamsters. Still no consensus and it was slim pickings on live animals, but if you needed a chew toy or treat that looked like cookies you were in luck.

We left and headed to the city shelter. I reminded the kids that we were just gathering information to ultimately make a family decision and we’d talk to “dad” when he returned from work that evening.

I felt really proud of the kids as I drove us to the shelter; listening to them all eagerly talking things through, sharing their opinions, and discussing how they were going to organize a chore chart to care for an animal. But what kind of animal was the big question.

At the shelter we walked quickly past the cat room as we headed toward the room with caged bunnies. A terrified Murphy would have nothing to do with the big furry bunny with long floppy ears that the other three kids chose to let out of the cage. I watched it poop pellets as it slowly made its way toward us. My allergies started acting up. Thankfully, the kids showed little interest. Nor were they interested in a sluggish guinea pig recovering from a surgery. ”How about a turtle?”, I offered. No sale.

And, then we passed the dogs on our way out and down the slippery slope I started. “Please, mom, can we just take a peek!”, and I succumbed to pleas from all the kids. Of course, they each found a dog they liked and they began talking to Merlin and Foxie and Brownie through the cages and calling them by name. My heart melted but I knew trouble was brewing. We were informed that none of these dogs were particularly good with children. Then, the top selling dog attendant came into the room and told us that “Lady” was great with kids and on her way back from an adoption outing if we wanted to meet her? In unison, they said YES! I reminded them, “We all agreed; no dogs.” I should have (and yes, I’m should-ing on myself) said firmly to the attendant, “My husband and I decided a dog is too much for our family, but thank you” and head back to the car; but if that had been what happened this would be a much shorter story.

When “Lady” arrived the kids surrounded her and she promptly licked their faces while her tail wagged with excitement. We went back to the meet and greet area and played fetch with her. She was gentle and energetic, the kids LOVED her and truth be told, so did I. Our research excursion clearly started turning into something else. The shelter was getting ready to close and the kids wanted to take a picture of Lady and a video to show dad. They were hopeful they could convince him that we should get a dog.

On the car ride home the chatter evolved from wanting a dog (and Lady specifically) into having a dog. Firmly, I said “You guys, dad said no.” Silently though, I started hoping too that adopting Lady might become a reality? There was now a small committee in my head saying things like, “Lady could teach them responsibility and unconditional love.” Wait, maybe that’s in my job description as their mother. Once we got home, the kids sat at the kitchen counter while I prepared dinner and watched out the windows for Ryan’s return. When they saw dad’s car headlights pull into the garage Connor yelled, “He’s home.” Shrieks and laughter filled the kitchen.

“Please wait until dad gets settles in before we have a family meeting,” I insisted. Murphy couldn’t help himself though and as the door to the kitchen opened Murphy blurted, “We’re getting a dog and her name is Lady!”

“What?” Ryan responded with a raised eyebrow and as neutral a voice as he could muster (but I could see he was feeling a little ambushed. Murphy was shushed by his siblings but still before Ryan could even put his bag down he got the play by play story of our afternoon of research. Ryan stayed true to his word as he always does and said, “WE are NOT getting a dog.”

Then, The dog-loving part of me chimed in, “She really is sweet babe.” Then I showed him the video. Suddenly, there was tension in the room. Connor started to cry. “You never let us do anything,” he said and stormed up to his room. Ryan’s voice grew heated as I attempted to convince him for the kids (which in hindsight I see was not the best thing to do). The family divided, 5 against 1 and Ryan called that out. “Now I feel like the bad guy.”

Attempted negotiations continued through dinner and Ryan consistently made it clear he wanted nothing to do with this dog. He eventually agreed though to a trial run for a week; to teach the kids (and me) a lesson about how much work and responsibility a dog requires for I had clearly forgotten.

Ryan actually loves dogs and we both grew up with them, but 15 years ago when I impulsively purchased a beagle/terrier puppy three months into our relationship, my roommates kicked me out; and I moved in with him. (which is another story); but today I wasn’t remembering the aftermath of that particular decision.

The energy in the house changed as we prepared for bedtime. The kids grew excited again and asked if I’d pick Lady up while they were at school and if I’d bring her to pick them up so all their friends could meet her. I agreed. Ryan didn’t say a word more. I went to bed immediately after tucking them all in to avoid further discussions with Ryan.

I lay there replaying the chain of events of the day and thought, “Ryan is usually right, maybe this isn’t a good idea?” Ultimately, I soothed myself by saying, “It’s only a trial run.” I didn’t want to disappoint the kids. Actually, I should have never taken them to the shelter. I wish I could rewind that one but it all felt so right in the moment.

Next morning at 7a.m. the kids ran downstairs to find me. Murphy had a notebook and pen and wanted to get started on writing the rules even though he doesn’t know how to write. We were back at the kitchen counter brainstorming how we we’re going to make it work and win dad’s support in time.

No dog on couch.

Sleeps in the basement.

Only eats dog food.

Walk three times a day.

We hurried through our morning routine and at drop off I could hear the kids telling their friends they’re getting a dog. I kissed them all goodbye and I headed home to Ryan who reminded me, “I’m so not okay with this dog thing and I’m reminding you, I’m not going to be responsible.”

“I GOT IT. But, I do need you to come to the shelter and poke your head in to meet the dog because they won’t allow Lady to go home with us until everyone in the family meets her. “Fine,” he agreed. One way or another it was going to be a memorable day so I braced myself.

In the early afternoon Emma and I picked Lady up before school got out for her older siblings. Sitting In the shelter waiting room, she told everyone she saw “I’m getting a dog today.” I filled out the paperwork and before we’re ready to take her home, Ryan arrived and met the dog. Lady (as if on cue), immediately went over to him and sat next to his feet. He stroked her head and when the dog keeper asked, “You’re okay with having a new member of your family?” He blankly responded yes and then said he needed to get back to work.

Emma and I left with Lady, leash, dog shampoo, feeding bowls in my hand, and two stuffed animals the shelter had given her, one for Emma and one for Lady, I opened the mini-van doors and we all jumped in and headed home. Once home, Emma and I gave Lady a tea tree oil bath outside with the hose as it was raining; and then went to school to pick up the other three.

We were outside that day between 2pm-7pm. Frankly, I was too nervous to bring the dog inside fearing I’d get in trouble if Lady had an accident in the house, barked, or scratched the floors.

Lady was simply excited to be outside. She’s five years old, but given how her 50lb body pulled me left and right and back and forth, she appeared to have never been walked on a leash. Emma ran behind me with her little legs and her older sister’s Ugg’ boots — just barely keeping up. Ecstatically, Connor, Maggie, and Murphy fought over who could walk her first and how they were going to introduce her to their friends. We walked all around the neighborhood and took Lady to the park and rubbed her belly as she laid on her side happy to be burrowing in the grass. We all felt it; a special connection to a dog that wanted to be loved by us as much as we already loved her. Eventually though, we would have to go home.

When we returned home Lady went straight to the basement. We set up her bed and got toys out to play with her. At 7pm we gated her into an area of the basement and started our bedtime routine. I wanted Ryan to be a part of this with us but he kept his distance which caused me again to question this decision (I had rallied for); and I thought to myself, “This isn’t worth it. I need a husband more than I need a dog.”

Now, there was a new question: In the week ahead, would Ryan come to love Lady as much as the kids (and I) already did. Things weren’t going badly, but it was only 7pm; and there was a full night before us to navigate.

Early that afternoon while at the park, the kids had asked me to send pictures to their teachers and friends so I simplified and posted on Facebook for all to see: “Welcome to the family MY LADY fucking Kitley. I think my husband may move out.”

At the time, I thought it was a funny sentiment to post and people could relate. I had left my phone at home while I was out with the kids and Lady. When we returned at 7pm, Ryan came down from upstairs and handed me my phone. He said, “I don’t want you to get upset, BUT my parents sent you a message and I want you to know I had nothing to do with it.” I believed him. He took the kids up to bed and I opened my phone to a group text sent from my father in law that first made me laugh — dismissively, but in truth, it wasn’t a nice message to come home to in regard to the poor family decision making on my part.

Laughing something off has been my defense mechanism to avoid feeling hurt. Five seconds after reading that text, I started sobbing. I felt like I was 16 again and the “bad” girl. I felt judged, criticized, and shamed. Impulsive thoughts raced through my head. To run, or get divorced, or disown this family. I’m just done I said silently even though I knew very well that didn’t mean it.

Mostly, I didn’t want to feel. I rallied myself to stay with the feelings, and I reached out to my best friend, my mom, and my sponsor; and I shared my feelings.

I am grateful for people who listen without judgment at times like these. I also bought a pack of cigarettes (I know, it’s almost 2016, who still smokes? An oxymoron for this exercise guru. It’s my last resort go to) and walked around the track at the kids’ school to calm myself down.

For better or worse, cigarettes and chocolate satisfy my temporary urges to be self-destructive these days and I binge only when I get really triggered. Today was one of those times. I needed to process and get out of my head. I power walked in circles for miles while smoking

When I got home the kids were asleep. I hopped in the shower quickly, then came upstairs, and jumped into bed. Ryan asked me if I was okay. Avoidant again, I said not really and tried to go to sleep. Mostly, I tossed and turned.

All this drama because of adopting a dog was taking its toll on me and I knew all to well that it symbolized something else that was bigger than the dog. That night with Lady was far from easy. I awakened at 12:30am to hear her whining and scratching at the gate in the basement.

I went downstairs to let her out in the backyard thinking she had to go to the bathroom. She had already pooped in the corner of the room. As I went to pick it up, she was so excited to see me she stepped in the poop and tracked it all over the rug as she chased me. After a short trip outside, I put her back in the basement, then cleaned up the poop, and decided to stay with her hoping to keep her quiet for the rest of the night. She nestled into the small of my back and we both slept on the bed in the basement until 5:30am.

People told me having a dog was similar to having another child. The “I told you so’s” were beginning to sink in but I remained determined to carry on with our trial run with Lady (who really is a sweet, mature, slightly overweight dog who deserves a good home; with a family that is entirely in agreement about adopting her.)

Suffice it to say it was as tough a day as it had been a night. At 5:30am Lady and I had a refreshing morning walk (which would be our one and only.) Connor kept an eye on her after I left for work. All of the kids woke easily that morning because they wanted to spend time with Lady before they left for school. Lauren (our sitter) arrived at 8am ready to take on her extra charge, being the super good dog person she is. She had stopped by the day we got Lady and was on board with helping to take care of her; but it had been a rough day for everyone — and our floors.

I had an emotional hangover from the night before, Ryan and I still hadn’t spoken privately, and I drove home from work simultaneously debating and praying about what to do. As much as I wanted to give the kids the experience of bonding with a dog, I also didn’t want to live in angst and disagreement with my husband.

I rationalized some too. Maybe he’d get used to her, but this experience was symbolic for many things in our relationship…sometimes when we have differing opinions about something I go ahead and do whatever the fuck I want regardless if he’s on board. And, there are always consequences that become teaching moments for me. I was smack in the middle of one!

I decided to do the next right thing which also felt like the worst thing. I texted Lauren and told her I was on my way home and I’d be returning the dog to the shelter. ”And, please don’t tell the kids.” I’d let them know when I got there but I needed her to stay with them so I could bring Lady back. She agreed to her role but the agony to come was inevitable and I knew it. Again, I braced myself.

I walked in the door to find the kids gathered around Lady on the rug. I said, “You guys, I have to bring Lady back to the shelter.” No…No… Please mom, don’t do this.”

I reminded them this was a decision that needed to have all family members on board. “But dad said we could try her out,” they all pleaded.

While this was true, clearly, it was going to be a rough week if we stayed the course and I realized that I didn’t want the kids to grow more attached to her. We’d most likely have to return her at the end of a week. Maggie and Connor sobbed, snot running down their nose, that hyperventilating kind of sob that breaks your heart. I’d never seen them cry this deep, longing, sad cry.

I lovingly urged them to say goodbye to Lady and promised them that another family would take good care of her. Murphy and Emma appeared unfazed at first then began to cry at the sight of their siblings crying. I wasn’t winning the battle or the war in this scenario and I felt completely emotionally spent. I leashed Lady and took her back. I cried when I saw the dog keeper and gave a lame excuse that I was allergic to the dog. Did she really need the low down of the 48 hour family drama?

When I got home again, nobody would look at me nor talk to me. Eventually, Maggie climbed in to my lap and I held and rocked her like a baby. Ryan had just gotten home from work. He had never responded to my text earlier that afternoon that I was taking Lady back, but what he’d really wanted was to talk about it before I made the decision on my own, yet again.

The way I saw it at that moment, “What more did we need to talk about?” Lady had come and gone but what she symbolized remains an important lesson for me. That night as I talked to each of the kids individually, I apologized for such an emotional couple of days.

In my mind I could see how much drama I had created by how I had gone about the whole situation. I could’ve stayed firm with the kids as they begged for a dog until Ryan and I had talked it through and arrived as a united front of two parents. My husband is a patient and steady partner who does his best to keep me honest about my feelings and calls me out when it is warranted (and I love him for that even when it stings). This was one of those times that my impulsive nature with the best of intentions caused a major backfire to occur.

I know the kids will get over it but how will I move through this?

That night, the kids and I laid in my bed and we ate Halloween candy to console our sorrows. We ordered sushi, always a mood changer for all of us, and had family dinner together. Ryan and I still weren’t t talking. After dinner, I went back upstairs to read books to the little kids and he watched a movie with Maggie. The kids were in happier spirits but I’d shut down. Still beating myself up. Wanting to be perfect and make good decisions without hurting anyone in the process.

Long story short: Ryan and I worked through it with honest communication (as we do and have been doing for 15 years). At the end of the day, I am truly grateful for how we ultimately navigate life with four young children, busy careers, and full schedules that aren’t ideal for adding a dog to a household. It was now time to release the story and reset with some honest introspection, self-compassion, and find a way to benefit from the experience.

Valuable lessons learned and relearned.

What was I thinking? More importantly, what have I learned and how will I handle the next situation? Oh and by the way, five days after returning Ms. Lady, Chicago had an eight inch snow storm and we didn’t get out of our pjs or leave the house the entire day. I could only imagine what hibernating with four kids and a dog while Ryan was at work could have been like.

Enough said. Stay tuned for more Adventures of Recovery.