The Boyfriend and the Dog

Being a mom of adult children is so hard sometimes.

But being a mom to my daughter’s boyfriend and his dog was not what I signed up for. Yet, in spite of this, I told my youngest daughter, who is twenty-two, she could have her boyfriend stay for awhile until he found a place and, of course, his adorable chocolate lab puppy could stay, too — for awhile.

Over the months I grew fonder of her boyfriend who helped me fix things around the house. And his dog, Chuck, who chased my three cats for play, left dog hair in every corner of the house, and begged me in the mornings for walks, won my heart despite my complaints.

“Someone else needs to walk Chuck,” I’d say three or four times a week, but every morning I’d look into those big brown eyes and dissolve, “Okay, Chuck, let’s go. I’ll take you,” and I’d grab the leash, a few plastic doggie bags and off we’d go.

It didn’t take long before I realized I needed those walks as much as Chuck. He took me places in my neighborhood I’d never been before and I met people I didn’t know existed. On weekends sometimes I’d take Chuck on a run in the hills behind my house. We both needed the exercise. He would race back and forth coaxing me to play and run until I finally gave up in exhaustion and said, “Okay, Buddy, it’s time to go home.”

One day I woke up sick. This time not even those big brown eyes could move me. I looked him straight in the face, “No walks today, Chuck. I’m going to bed.” I was barely back under the sheets when he landed, all forty pounds, at my side. I slept most of the day awakening only to Chuck’s snores and a few wet kisses on my cheeks.

On one occasion I was reading on the couch with Chuck lying across my feet and my daughter’s boyfriend walked in cradling my favorite cat, Oscar, in his arms. We looked at each other. Chuck and Oscar looked at each other, and at that moment I knew we had become a family. I stopped asking my daughter when her boyfriend and his dog were moving out, and settled into a comfortable home with one dog, three cats, my daughter, her boyfriend, and myself.

Until one day, a year and a half later, when my daughter announced that she and her boyfriend were breaking up. He and the dog would be moving out.

I looked at her aghast.

Nobody asked me if they could move out I cried to myself. It’s not fair that twenty-something “children” only have to ask to move into my house, but they don’t have to ask me to move out.

But who said being a mom is fair?

My house is quiet again. When I open the front door now no dog rushes to greet me, while my cats fly in different directions to get out of his way. I’m bereft, but I don’t regret for a minute the time spent with my daughter, her boyfriend and his dog.

By Marilee Stark