One of my gorgeous blogging friends has just posted beautiful posts about her animals, so I'm going to take a post, after my little soap box saga, to tell you how wonderful my animals are.
Both our animals came to us without any planning what-so-ever (much like Lily).
Oscar was originally bought by my grandma as her pet. It was the first animal she has ever bough from a pet shop, and she bought him because of his gorgeous eyes. When I asked her why she bought him, she simply said, "He looked at me."
But Oscar is a boy. A real boy. Rough and tumble, goofy, high energy and generally ADHD in dog form. And Grandma's placid girl dogs couldn't cope and Grandma herself was a little horrified by what she had bought. So we adopted him. And we love him like a child. He is sometimes frustrating (WHY does he take 45 minutes to choose spot to poo, even on rainy days and at 1am?), sometimes naughty (WHY are my undies so delicious?), sometimes a sook (WHY does he need to sit ON us?), sometimes really smart (WHY can't we leave anything of his on any surface, even high ones?) and always loving.
Oscar is pretty much Bob's dog, so when I read, I think even before I was pregnant, that dogs, particularly male dogs, sense labour before it happens, I wondered how that would shape up. While I was on bed rest at home, Oscar would spend his days with me, in bed, snuggled up, generally being my little friend on a very long and lonely road. At night he would abandon me for his father.
At 31+1 weeks, I went for a routine check up with my Ob/ Gyn and her said Lily looked low. I said she had always been low, even when she was too tiny to need to huddle up. He frowned and said, "Well, just keep up the bed rest and the progesterone."
At 31+6, my grandma and mum popped over. Mum commented that Oscar was being unusually clingy with me. I laughed and said "I hope not. Dogs know when you're going into labour." And forgot about it, assuming he was feeling like less of a night time traitor. The next night I went into labour.
And he has been Lily's little soldier ever since. Getting up with me and sitting with for me each heart breaking pump while she in the NICU. Racing to us to each time she makes a peep, even now. I remember the one night we almost tried control crying, he would race between us and her, his eyes begging us to do something for his little girl. If she wasn't enough to make us forget that nonsense, he was. He sits between her and any new people to our home, and follows around anyone other than us holding her. He loves his girl. And even when she pokes eyes and pulls fur, he patiently waits until she tires of him before moving on, although, lately, he has been a sentinel just out of arms reach. A sentinel, nevertheless though.
Dexter is a gorgeous creature we bought from the vet when we took Oscar for a check up. He was rescued from a kitten farm and hand raised by the nurses at the vet. He was the best impulse buy ever. He, as opposed to Oscar, is indifferent to the baby. She adores him though, laughing her little head off at his antics, and enjoying the moments she catches him off guard and she can attempt to shove him in her mouth, just like her less mobile stuffed animals. And while he licks her feet and her hands, and sometimes takes an experimental nibble when he is playing with her (her toys) voluntarily, he has never once lashed out at her vicious fur pulling antics. Which is saying something as my feet and ankles have grown accustomed to his awesome stalking and foot murdering skills. He looks imploringly at us, but just takes it. The only problem we have had with him is when he was tiny, he would attempt to sit on her head or share her milk. He has grown out of that now, although we still keep a wary on him when she is sleeping, as our beautiful boy loves nothing more than to curl up right under your chin when you are sleeping.
The most important thing about our boys? They are best friends. Rough and tumble, hilarious, murderous, biscuit stealing (both ways), best friends.
We are as blessed with our animals as with our baby.
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