Not my child

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I’m a pet owner.
I adore my little schnoodle. She’s sweet, cuddly, and very loving.

But, and this is the important part, she’s my dog, not my child.

I’ve heard the term pet parents for years, but hadn’t given it much thought. Until I got a dog.

As the mother of four, let me assure you that children and pets are very different. Very different indeed!

But just to make sure I wasn’t way off course I put my dog through a few little tests.

One thing I love about children is that they usually understand humor at a very young age. I could always make my children giggle.

So I told my dog some of my best jokes.
Nothing. No snort. No giggle. Not even the tiniest of grins.

I then tried to get a volley of witty repartee going with the dog. She didn’t seem to understand the concept. I’d lob a comment at her, and she’d just let it fall flat.


I decided to give her one final test. I sat her in my lap and asked her about her favorite activities and what she wanted to do with her life. She just looked at me with her deep brown puppy dog eyes and licked my hand.

Not exactly the response I’d expect from any of my children.

Then it hit me–what I was really being called when I was referred to as the mom of my dog.
Let me tell you, I was shocked to the core. Shocked I tell you!

Think about it. To be the mother of a dog one must first be a female dog.
Get it now?

So let’s get this straight.
I am not a dog.
My dog is not a human.


We are in no way related, which causes no damage to our friendship.

So to anyone who is confused about how species work, I’ll simplify it for you. Dogs are dogs and people are people.
Just as it should be.


Honestly, if one more person refers to me as my dog’s mother I’m going to barf.
Note I said barf, not bark.

What do you think?