The Head of the Household

Ahhh…the first born.

Lucy Goosey has been the love of my life for the past six years.   I adopted her when I was in college and she’s been everywhere with me since.   During college Chris and I were dating long distance and so about every two or three weeks, I’d pack a bag, throw Lucy in the front seat and head out.   She was a great co-pilot.

When we moved to Connecticut so Chris could go to graduate school, we decided that Lucy needed a friend and so we brought home Molly as a 12-week-old puppy.   Lucy was pissed.   She didn’t know what to do with this fur ball that kept trying to play with her.   Didn’t this puppy know that Lucy didn’t play? Lucy sat in sunspots.   She drank bottled water.   She slept in my bed.   She did not wrestle, chase, or – God forbid – fetch.

But over time, Lucy and Molly fell into a pretty good relationship.   Molly left Lucy alone for the most part and on the days where Lucy was feeling frisky, Molly was right there with a good rope for tugging or bone for chewing.   Even though Lucy would never admit to it, they became great friends.

And then I got pregnant.   And Lucy’s world was shattered again.   She couldn’t sit on my lap because my belly was too big.   Her dog bed was moved out of our bedroom to make room for the rocking chair and bassinette.   Lucy was none too pleased.   She started barking more and shedding hair.   She started to fight with Molly and hoard her dog bones.   She was beside herself and the baby wasn’t even here yet.

When we finally brought the baby home, Lucy could have cared less.   She came up and gave the obligatory sniff, but then she was up underneath me, barking to be petted.   As long as that baby didn’t interfere with Lucy’s world, then things would be fine.

Lately though, things have gotten a little off kilter for Lucy.   When I come in the house now, I go to the Bean first before I say hello to Lucy.   When we’re on the couch, Lucy has to get down because of the baby.   And Lucy’s dog bed was once again moved to make room for the baby.   Lucy tried to be patient.   She tried to be polite.   But this past week, she’s been at her wits end.   She now rolls around the living room floor, howling until her stomach is rubbed.   She sits at her food bowl at all hours of the day demanding to be fed.   In short, she’s been a pain the booty.

So, to make up for our lack of attention, this weekend was Lucy’s weekend.   We did all of her favorite things – slept in sun spots, ate pancakes, had belly rubs.   On Sunday, Lucy spent the day at the groomers getting her nails done and her hair did.   While she was there, I washed her favorite blankets and replaced the pillow that she sleeps on with a brand new, clean, fluffy one.

I know it wasn’t enough.   I know that tomorrow, she will probably meet me at the bottom of the stairs at 5:00 AM demanding to be fed, rubbed, and sunbathed.   But its a good start.   Lucy may not be the center of attention anymore (gasp!), but she’ll always be my first born.