Real Talk: I Don't Always Like My Dog

Let's just clear the air right now - I do love my dog. Very much. I would be absolutely lost without Willow. But just as it is perfectly acceptable for mothers and fathers to admit that having children isn't all bursts of sunshine and rainbows like we portrait it to be on social media, pet ownership is just the same. Especially when your dog is made up of several breeds that are smart, high energy, and stubborn.

Willow is a crossbreed, and when you look at her, you can see at least two; Australian Cattle Dog (Blue heeler is its common name) and some variety of pitbull that is less likely to be deduced just by looking at her. When people ask me what her breed is, I joke, "her officially breed is Pain In The Ass." Then I explain what she is a mix of, and everyone suddenly understands.

Pitbulls are highly affectionate, and I have no clue how they get the rap for being aggressive because Willow is not the least bit aggressive. In fact, the first thing she wants to do when you stoop to pet her is rollover pitifully onto her back and shamelessly accept belly rubs.

Heeler's, on the other hand, have an instinct to herd that is extremely hard to break. As a puppy, she would dart out in front of you, cutting you off and forcing you to trip to avoid stepping on her. As she got bigger and sturdier, I made sure everyone knew to "step on her so she'll learn not to cross in front of you." Coupled with training on a lead, it worked exceptionally well. She only darts in front of me to bring me to a stop when she sees a human she wants to beg attention from. Then there is also the tendency to nip because herding dogs motivate their herd by nipping at the heels (it's also where the term 'heeler' comes from). This was also hard to train, but a simple command of "no nibble" turns soft nips into kisses, and all is well. I also want to point out that she has never nibbled on anyone but me. Again, no clue where this idea of terrifying Pitbulls came from.

Now, explaining my dog's breeds, let's get to her particular quirks. In the morning, as soon as the alarm goes off and often before, she is hell-bent on ensuring that I get out of bed. She will purposefully get into trouble, such as opening drawers, knocking things over, picking up toys, and throwing them at me. I'm not kidding about that last one; she throws her toys at me. It isn't exactly getting the paper and pouring me a cup of coffee as I would like. The insistent whining that she does and over-vocalization that particular neighbors in the apartment complex absolutely love (read: hate and complain about). She only ever barks or growls at me. I guess just as she is the source of my exasperation, I am hers. After all, she does have to wait on me for everything: water, food, toys, affection, and even going to the bathroom!

I've always written fondly about Willow because she does so much for me as my quasi-emotional support dog and best friend. But it would be very false for me to claim that it is always a good time. In fact, I often feel bad that on this side of the screen, I yell at her to "leave it" or "get off that counter" more than I do anything else with her. Even as I write this, she chases her own tail, barking and growling at herself and likely annoying the downstairs neighbors very much. I only wish that she could list out her complaints about me as well. I fear they would go along the lines of, "she works too much, doesn't give near enough pets, withholds bully sticks, and refuses to get out of bed at the first alarm." All of which I am unfortunately very guilty of. I tried explaining that to buy her bones and feed her the food she loves, I must work as much, but she cannot understand. I blame her stubborn pitbull side for that.

What I mean to get across is that it's acceptable to admit that we sometimes don't like our pets. It's not natural to enjoy them all the time. Just as we don't always like our partners, it doesn't mean that we love them less. It is just sometimes, our pets are assholes that tear up our shoes or purposefully go to the bathroom in the house when they are fully housebroken. If you tell me that at that moment, picking up pieces of shoes you spent good money on or cleaning up stinky dog poo and pee, you still like your dog, I'm very concerned about you. Sure, you still love them but like them? Debatable. So let's just admit it and move on.