D-O-Double-G

Knowing what it's like to have and raise both, I've always been really flexible on the child-dog comparisons. There are undeniable parallels in training a dog and raising a child. Like how you have to punish them for misbehavior within three seconds or they don't understand why you're mad, and how it's better to divert and distract than just to say "no," and how you have to establish your role as the alpha before they're three or else they think they might be in charge. I'm not trying to demean my kids but honestly, the means are similar, though the ends may be a bit different.

There are those, though, and some in my own family, who blur or disregard the line between dog and child altogether. The dogs get an open invitation to join the humans at the dinner table, they only get a mild scolding when they accidentally pee on the carpet ("oh, you silly thing"), they make their way into most family photos, and take away a significant haul on birthdays and christmas. I'm sure I'm not the only one who's dreaded getting on a plane with the lady carrying her Pomeranian in a cute little plaid carry-on. I mean, come on.

I do feel like our dog has a role in our family: to teach our kids about responsibility and respect, to help me sleep peacefully when Jon is out of town, to clean up spills in the kitchen. But I don't feel bad about shutting her in her backyard, I try not to take her on vacation with me, she is NOT invited to dine with us, and she gets regularly ordered to lay down by every member of our family. She's a dog, and that's her place.

We do give her privileges, too. Like big bones to gnaw on and tennis balls to rip in half and baths (which fill her with glee). She gets to go in the kiddy pool, and if she's been really good, we bring her boyfriend over to visit.



I think one post about the dog for every eight or nine about the kids is fair. I'll spare you the puppy album.