A Difficult Dog and a Baby on the Way

I always assumed our cranky, beloved dog would bow out before parenthood started. Instead, she’s thriving. Now what?

When Kate first suggested we get a dog after we moved into our Brooklyn apartment, I thought she was joking. “Where in the hell’s the dog gonna live?” I asked. You see, I grew up with outside dogs. There wasn’t a moment in my childhood when there weren’t at least two dogs running around. But they ran around outside in the pine straw we put out for them in our backyard. And they slept in these things called dog houses.

I thought this was normal. Kate told me in no uncertain terms that it was not. I agreed to the dog mostly out of guilt. Also because the rescue told us she was part lab. I’m sure I don’t have to tell the good-hearted, intelligent people who read this newsletter that there’s no such thing as a rescue labrador retriever. Fenner is 50% pit bull and 50% beagle. She is the third Fenner in my family and by far the worst one. The nicest compliment I can give her is that you can clearly tell she descends from a wolf.