Babies Make Four: Lola & Emma

A week before my 21st birthday, I "adopted" a little mutt terrier I named Lola. The previous year, my two family dogs had died within a day of each other which left a gaping hole in my heart. I know it sounds silly, but those dogs were my siblings, Buddy roamed the neighborhood with me and I took naps in the floor with Tinker. They were family and I was devastated. I had told Dillon that I really wanted to adopt a little dog to keep with me. He had said to wait until I moved to Asheville after graduation. Then I could look through the shelters and find my next dog.
My roommate came into our apartment one evening and said that one of the models in the art department had found a small Yorkie terrier on the side of the road and was trying to find a home for it. We raced up the hill into the art studio and instead of the cute, perfectly manicured little pooch was Lola. A ragamuffin, malnourished dog whose upper coat of fur had fallen out because of not having enough to eat. I sat down next to her and she jumped on my lap and my heart was gone. I had to have her. The woman who found her would pay for Lola to be spayed and have her shots if I promised to give her a good home. I wouldn't set her free during the summer (something Radford students were known to do. Get a dog and then when the semester was over just let them go because they couldn't take them home with them). I promised to keep her forever and that's how Lola came to be mine.
My mom was furious, Dillon wasn't too happy either. It was a big responsibility to take on in the last year of college. Mom thought that Lola would end up being at her house, but I wasn't about to give her up. Lola turned from a sad little dog into a feisty pup who didn't realize she weighs only 8 pounds.
She claimed a place curled up next to me at night and moved with me to Asheville and even attended our wedding. She got away from us chasing squirrels, road on our lap with her head hanging out the window, has hid pancakes under our pillows and ate the cheese off the top of a pizza while we weren't looking.
The spring after Dillon and I got married, we thought it might be good to get Lola a playmate. It was sad she was at home alone all day and another dog might make her a little friendlier (ahem.) That's how Emma came to be. I worked with a gentleman at Grove Park whose dog had a litter of puppies. We wanted a boy dog so there wouldn't be dominate issues and there was one boy dog left. We traveled out to his farm and the pups were a little bigger than what we wanted. Except the runt. She was a little girl who tried to keep up with the other dogs. Her name was "Magic" which we would change to Emma and her ears flopped over. Her black and brown coloring were too cute. Dillon was drawn to her and even though it's not what we expected, I carried her to our truck and she road in my lap on the way home. That first night away from her mama, she cried and cried. I slept on the couch with her sleeping on my chest. I felt so sorry for her.
But she adjusted quickly. And ate my shoes. Not just chewed them up, literally ate them. She pooped in the house. Her ears became pointy and she would jump five feet in the air when we came home. This dog is spunky.
These dogs were our "children." They would travel with us everywhere, they would go on hikes with us, we would buy them all kinds of toys (and yes, I've been known to buy clothes for them). And then came the baby. I found out I was pregnant and immediately worried how it would affect them. They had run of the house, Lola sleeps on our bed, would they hate the baby? We took the baby classes where we learned how to handle dogs and babies. Basically you never leave them alone together (duh.)
And then Luke came along. Our dogs didn't quite know how to handle this screaming ball of flesh. They were ignored. No longer were they "top dog" of the house and I feel so very sad for them.
It's been a hard adjustment, one that they're still not quite sure of. Luke chases them and laughs and they run with their tail in between their legs. We try to teach gentle touches to him and not to pull on their tails. Our hikes on trails have changed from leashes and water bottles for the pups to bottles and baby carriers. We refrain from taking them because it's just too difficult.
Poor Lola has few years left. She's around 11 years old, and I think that maybe I need to focus on her a little bit more. Maybe a few more treats, a few more walks down the street. She's my doggie soulmate. I don't think that any other pup will hold the special spot in my heart that she does.
Our dogs have taken it in the best stride they could, Emma even licks Luke's hands now and loves when he's in his highchair and feeds Emma puffs. Hopefully, as he grows our dogs will adjust even better and he'll have a best friend in his dogs the way I did in mine.