Parenting
Our Eccentric Dog: The Child Whisperer
by Jessica L. McCarthy
Updated: Sep. 6, 2023
Originally Published: April 29, 2015
Meet Bella, my clever, stunning (seriously, she’s quite a looker), and utterly wild 21-pound mutt. A few years ago, on a lazy Saturday morning, I was snuggled up in bed with her—she was still a tiny puppy, curled up against me. The cheerful chirping of birds filled the air, and sunlight streamed gently through the curtains. Suddenly, my partner, Mike, burst into the room, humorously waving his arm as if wielding a knife, channeling his best Anthony Perkins from Psycho.
In an instant, Bella jumped up, straddled my neck, and barked with unexpected ferocity. It was the first time she’d ever barked, and her deep growl could have passed for that of a full-grown Doberman. Her barks calmed down once she recognized Mike, but that’s when the unpleasant smell hit us. We turned to find three feet of liquid dog mess splattered across the wall.
“You’re cleaning that up,” I told him, getting out of bed.
I felt conflicted about the whole debacle. On one hand, I was proud of Bella for displaying her protective instincts, but on the other, her fright had led to an unfortunate accident. After a few days, I pushed it to the back of my mind. Bella had her quirks—she was shy around unfamiliar faces—but it seemed more like a personality trait than a symptom. She was sharp and eager to learn, mastering basic commands with ease. We taught her to fetch and play Frisbee like a champ. I even trained her to roll over, play dead, and hop into a large tote bag that initially terrified her (another oddity), so I could take her shopping.
However, by the time my daughter, Lily, arrived nearly two years later, Bella had a whole list of eccentricities. She was terrified of dumpsters, canopies, and flags. At dog parks, she ignored her fellow canines, fixated solely on her Frisbee.
But the major issue was that her years of insecurity had morphed into a dominant protectiveness. She would bark and lunge at anyone approaching, including people she knew, like our neighbors and friends. It was manageable for us, but for newcomers and kids, Bella was downright intimidating and came off as a complete jerk. Mike and I tried everything to help her calm down, but despite our efforts, she wouldn’t respond to the simple command of “Quiet!”
Meanwhile, our daughter, now 5, entered a phase of being terrified of monsters and the dark. Gone were the peaceful evenings of easy tuck-ins and parental Netflix binges (with the occasional romantic rendezvous). Now, we had two little beings stressing us out.
“Do you know Lily’s been asking why she has to sleep alone when the rest of us are together… even Bella?” Mike pointed out one day. It was a valid concern—an obvious injustice. Then he suggested something brilliant: “What if we let Bella sleep with her?”
We braced for a fight that first night. But when we called Bella in, she curled right up in her dog bed, seeming to understand that her new role was to protect Lily. Miraculously, they both slept soundly through the night, and for more than six months, our evenings returned to a semblance of peace.
Until a couple of weeks ago. Right after we closed Lily’s door one night, Bella began whining. She scratched at the door and let out high-pitched yelps.
“Mommy! Daddy!” Lily cried. “Bella’s keeping me awake!” We sighed.
“We know, sweetheart. Bella’s just dealing with some… issues.” Translation: we were at our wit’s end. Exhausted from work and parenting, we felt defeated.
Just when it seemed we were heading back into a chaotic phase, Mike had another epiphany. During tuck-in time, he told Lily, “If Bella gets out of her bed tonight and scratches at the door, I want you to firmly tell her to go back to bed and stay.”
“But she won’t listen to me,” Lily replied.
“She will if you’re firm,” I assured her.
“Okayyy,” she reluctantly agreed.
Minutes later, Mike and I settled in the living room with bourbon in hand, watching Daredevil and anticipating Bella’s antics. And then it happened. Lily’s sweet but strong voice broke through, “Bella, go to your bed. Go to your bed. Stay.”
And surprisingly, Bella complied.
What triggered Bella’s recent episode of chaos is still a mystery. Living with her is a rollercoaster of unpredictability and comfort. In the end, I can’t help but think she was asking for something too. Bella did such a fantastic job making Lily feel secure—who would have thought she needed that reassurance in return?
For more insights on parenting challenges, check out this engaging post on Cervical Insemination. And for those considering family planning, the CDC offers excellent resources on pregnancy and home insemination. If you’re interested in boosting fertility, consider visiting Make A Mom, a trusted retailer for at-home insemination supplies.
Summary:
Bella, the eccentric dog, evolves from a frightened puppy to a child protector, showcasing the complexity of pet behavior and family dynamics. Through challenges and unexpected solutions, both Bella and Lily learn to find comfort in each other, reminding us that the bond between kids and pets can be invaluable.
Leave a Reply