Hey there.

I think it’s time I start talking about my sweet boi. The goodest boi there ever was, and the world’s best under the blankie snuggler. My dog. My dog was my child before I became a mother to an ACTUAL human. Before that, he was my ACTUAL child. My wife and I rescued him from Texas when he was about 9 months old. He’s now 7 YEARS old, and it feels like I still have that same girlish anticipation awaiting his arrival to the Midwest. The dogs from this particular rescue are sent up from Texas on a bus. He was supposed to be here in mid-September, but he didn’t have all of his paperwork to get on the bus. My wife and I joke about him standing at the bus stop in the rain with his little suitcase waiting for the next bus to show up. The next bus was 2 weeks later, and by then he got his shit together and he was able to get on the bus to come “home”. I often think about how he is officially in his “senior” years of doghood, and it saddens me deeply. This sort of thought is the kind my wife tells me not to think. It’s an intrusive thought to say the least, but I can’t imagine my life without him. I know the majority of pet owners must feel this way. How are other people out here dealing with the fact that they only get to snuggle their fur babies for a very limited amount of time? Maybe I’m just emotionally weak. I actually cried on the way home from the hospital when I was bringing my newborn baby home because “my relationship with Brody is going to change.” Oh, his name is Brody by the way, in case you didn’t catch that. But that scenario is laughable, is it not? Just imagine, hormones freshly flipped upside down and put in a blender, with this tiny angel baby in the backseat of the car, just sobbing about the fur baby waiting at home who may or may not love you anymore. I look back on it now, and it’s funny. But it also turned out to be true. Not the part where Brody didn’t love me anymore of course. The part where our relationship changed, well, because it had to. I had a new baby to care for, so if my relationship with my dog didn’t change a little bit that would be a problem . Hang on baby, Brody needs snuggles, treats, and a walk right now; I’ll change your poopy diaper and feed you when I get back. I’m pretty sure Brody would say that’s appropriate behavior… but we all know he’s highly jealous of this tiny human who took over the household.

Brody is a chiweenie. If you’ve never seen or heard of such a pup, I suggest you Google it. You won’t be disappointed. Here comes the story about how Brody came to be in my life. My wife and I were camping one summer, and across the street there was a couple with a dog. Not just any dog, a frickin’ WEINER DOG! I love weiner dogs. I’ve always held a soft spot for them in my heart with their tiny little legs and long sausage bodies. There was actually a house in one of the neighborhoods I used to live in when I was about 15 or 16 years old that had 3 weiner dogs. It was this old lady who sort of gave me witch vibes; like in a good way. The long slightly silver braided hair with wisps falling around her face, always outside collecting her herbs and vegetables in a basket. Probably burned sage in her house and had an excellent bookshelf with magical books and classics you couldn’t even dream up (speculation of course). She had an aura about her that I thought was very mysterious and I’m sad that my teenage self never even said hi to her. Anyways, weiner dogs… As I said, this lady had 3 of them and they would run up and down the fence whenever someone walked by. They also barked, A LOT. The lady who lived there seemed unbothered by it and had a calming presence. In fact, I’m not sure if I ever heard her speak. I don’t know if it was the witch lady or the dogs all on their own, but ever since then I knew what my all time favorite dog was. Now I think I’m getting another idea for a blog post titled ” Witch Lady”. Okay, now that I have that very important detail or should I say massive amount of unnecessary details out of the way, let’s get back to Brody’s story.

The camping trip. That I mentioned once upon a time before I got lost on a rant. (Per usual). My wife and I watched this little weiner dog from across the street for 3 whole days. The dog was a girl, although I can’t remember her name. But this little cutie pants just trotted alongside her owners, climbed up into their lap, and did all the cute things you could imagine an adorable little dog doing on a camping trip. It wasn’t long before we started talking about the possibility of getting a dog. Mind you, we were still on the camping trip when we were discussing this, so it was more of a fun fireside “imagine if” sort of conversation. We started Googling weiner dogs just to look at pictures of them at first. Then, naturally, as the internet goes, we got lost in a rabbit hole (while camping. ha.ha.). We started looking at different crossbreeds with weiner dogs, and let me tell you there are some weird ones. Then we came across a chiweenie. I thought I was gonna die right then. SO. FRICKIN’. CUTE. Then all of a sudden we were on the page of a very reputable local animal rescue that works with shelters in Texas to find good homes for animals in the Midwest. We scrolled through for a while, then put the idea to rest. It was a fun activity to dream up while we were camping, but we started thinking of all the practical reasons not to get a dog. There’s always a million good reasons why you can’t or shouldn’t do something. Looking back now, I think our top reason was that we could no longer be selfish asshole young adults. You mean we have to give up Ubering all over the city to different bars and not come home until midnight? You mean we can’t just leave on a whim to go to a hotel or some travel experience (meaning we now have to plan ahead for dog friendly, although I will have you know, I found ALL the dog friendly patio). We did not like the idea of having to give up our freedoms and have another life to care for. This was coming from people who now have 4 animals, 1 human, and a few plants hanging around the house. Ah, how far we’ve come. Although, the plants definitely have to go, because these shit-head cats keep knocking them over and I’m sick of cleaning up all this dirt. Like the Cards Against Humanity card: “crumbs all over the goddamn carpet.” That one gets me every time. A N Y W A Y… Jesus, good thing I’m not a public speaker, my talks would take all day. But really, that’s what my page is called. I didn’t name it “Corrah Quiet”. Okay seriously anyway…

We sort of forgot about the idea of getting a dog for a couple weeks, and then we were both passively looking. One day, I was in school and my wife sent me a screen shot from the rescue and said, “I found our dog”. It was a little tiny baby chiweenie (this is one of his nicknames). This chiweenie’s name was Brody. I started scrolling through his pictures and he was the cutest little guy I’d ever seen. It was time. We talked about it that evening and put in our application. The rescue sent someone to our house to make sure we weren’t crazy dog hoarders and we were approved. They gave us an arrival date from Texas; but like I said, he was two weeks late. Little shit, making us wait. We went a little crazy, kind of like you do when you go shopping for your first child and you buy stuff because you think “Wow, this is practical, I’ll use this all the time”. Wrong. It’s not practical and you won’t use it all the time. We bought him all kinds of crap that he didn’t need. He had bow ties for every day of the month for crying out loud. And when I tell you he had (key word HAD) 3 hats, I’m not lying. Brody wishes I was. The booties for his feet, sweaters, jackets, 4 million toys, the list goes on. We figured since he’s a tiny dog from Texas coming to the North, he would need to be dressed for the weather. And while this is definitely true, the bigger reality is that he’s a tiny dog from the South; so he wants nothing to do with going outside in the winter, even if he does have his Carhartt on. He prefers to just run out, do his thing, and bolt back into the house. If you put the winter gear on him, he’ll stand there stiff as a board like he’s frozen and can’t walk. It’s sort of hilarious actually. That’s what he does now. When we very first got him, he would tolerate the winter gear (not the booties). We lived in an apartment then, so he didn’t have a choice. It was walk outside or nothing. Now, if it’s too cold, he’ll run out the front door (sometimes just on the front step), and be back within 20 seconds.

Now that Brody’s bowel and bladder habits are covered, let’s talk ARRIVAL DAY! My wife and I were up early and even went out for pancakes (we don’t go out for pancakes..). Weird. We made the hour drive to the rescue center to pick Brody up. I just remember when we walked in and told us to wait and they would go get him. That little dude bolted across the room right into my wife’s arms. Don’t worry, he ended up choosing me in the end. Ha. They gave us a list of all the rules, precautions, etc…, and we were on our way! We of course fought over who was going to drive and who got to sit in the back with him. My wife won that battle because her argument was pretty strong: he picked me. I couldn’t argue with that, so she sat back there talking cutesy with the little guy while I drove us the hour drive home. When we arrived at the apartment, he was instantly at home. There was no caution, he just ripped around, sniffed everything, and seemed like a happy guy. I think we sat on the floor most of that day. Watching him walk around, giving him treats, watching him sleep. Everything he did was magical in our eyes. We were like little kids with a new toy, fighting over who got to hold he leash on walks, who got to hold him and snuggle him. We also quickly learned that the kennel was a no for all of us. I’m not hating on people who kennel their dogs. You do you, and I’ll do me. But the idea of locking this poor sweet baby in a kennel all day (or night) didn’t sit well with me. We kenneled briefly, and he would tear apart any blanket, bed, toy, etc… Before you tell me to leave the kennel empty; please save your breath. Not doing it, we don’t even have a kennel anymore. Because guess what? This boi spends over half of his life burrowed in blankets. No lie, we have to pat down blankets or call his name before we sit down. He’s hidden in plain sight. He even sleeps between my legs at night. Another nickname “Burrow Baby”. Why would I kennel him when he basically kennels himself all day. Plus, if we’re gone a bit longer than expected, I want him to be able to move around and use the toilet. Also not kidding, he has “revenge peed” and peed and pooped in general when we’ve been gone longer that normal IN THE BATHROOM! He lifts his leg on the toilet and poops next to the shower. The first time I saw this (it doesn’t happen often, but it has happened a few times), I was awestruck. No one wants to clean up dog pee and poop, but oh my Lord, he LITERALLY peed on the toilet. I was zero percent mad. He kind of had that guilty look when I came out of the bathroom; ears slightly back and a nervous tail wag and kind of looks like he’s smiling. Do you know which look I’m talking about? I just kissed his little head. What a good fricken boi. The best boi. If he was taller he probably would have made in IN the toilet. (Wait!? Am I talking about Brody’s bowel and bladder habits again?? Sorry, I can’t help it. I am a nurse after all). Maybe I should invest in a dasch ramp for the bathroom. Going out in the winter is also a huge no for him, we have to carry him out sometimes and set him down, even then, he still looks at you like “why are you doing this to me?”.

Okay, I would like to know where I’m going with this, because as of now, I’ve just been free writing whatever comes into my head. So, Once Upon a Time, when Brody had been with us for a while and he was used to the routine of my wife going to work and me going to nursing school- BAM! Covid. Need I say more? Yes, I need; but not about Covid. Everyone has their own lived reality with that and I’m not discrediting the prodigious impact the virus had on people around the globe. I’m just highlighting some light that occurred in my life during that dark time in history. So here we go. Brody became the happiest boi of all time, having both of his moms home 95% of the time. My schooling became mostly online, and I had already dropped down to working one day per week as a nursing assistant. My wife started working from home, and the only time Brody was left alone was for a grocery run or (sadly) a liquor store run. More on that later possibly. He went for 3 walkies a day AT LEAST. He had access to unlimited snuggles, treats, and play time. I even had a chair set up right next to mine while I was listening to lectures via Zoom. Said chair had a cozy doggie bed and blankie. He would also snooze on my lap during school. And can I just say “business on top, cozy on bottom” was my favorite thing about 2020!? Brody could probably go work at a hospital at this point since he was with me for every part of nursing school except for clinical and skills lab. He’s basically an RN, lets be real. The pandemic started just 4 months after we adopted the little dude. The bonding that occurred and the lifestyle he became used to is unmatched. I think the first time he was ever really home alone for any period of time was when I got my first nursing job. Even then, it was for maybe 5 hours at a time, because I was a home care nurse, so half of my work was at home. Mind you, I had this job when I was pregnant, so he still got his well deserved cuddles because when I was done working, I wanted nothing more than to just lay on the couch. Here comes the part where I start to think I’m a shitty dog mom. I BROUGHT HIM ON AN AIRPLANE! I thought he was going to die. Seriously. He was hyperventilating so bad and there was nothing I could do. We went to visit my mom in Florida, and decided maybe Brody could come. Worst decision ever and I’ll never do it ever again as long as we both shall live Amen! (Read that last sentence at 1.5x speed). Then shortly after that I had a baby and basically ruined the poor guy’s life. (I’m kidding, but still). He wasn’t my baby anymore and he could sense that. He became super protective of me and sat on me All. The. Time. He became very clingy, if he wasn’t clingy before. As that baby grew, he learned to love her too. Now, whether he wants it or not, he has the unconditional and sometimes forced love of 3 girls in this household. As my child gets older, there’s more time to give Brody more love and he soaks all that in. He has also recently developed this thing where he sleeps on my torso between my “hug” pillow and me. My wife jokes that when he crosses the rainbow bridge, I’m going to need the mental hospital. We can joke about that because I have been there. It may be true. But I’m not going to talk about that because I’ll just start crying. Whether he lives for 10 years or 15 years, he will be loved just the same. He’s my best boi, and he always will be. (Not too sure the entire point of that post, but thanks for listening anyway.

Talk soon,

Corrah