It’s a Heart thief

Our new puppy, Luna, is on a mission. She is stealing hearts. I was the first victim; my husband came next. Our youngest dog, Vader, is already toast, and our oldest dog, Patches, is trying hard not to give in, but she will hand her heart over as well.

We are all hopelessly in love with her.

We got her last Friday, before the 4th of July weekend. We had been lied to. The foster ‘person’ insisted Luna and her siblings were eight weeks old and would all weigh over five pounds. Age and weight were far from the truth. Luna, a Staffordshire terrier mix with an estimated adult weight of 50-60 lbs, was separated from her mom and siblings way too early. Weighing only 3.2 pounds, she was clearly much younger. The veterinarian estimated her to be five weeks old—malnourished, with a big belly full of worms and starving. Too young to be vaccinated. We reset her birthday and will celebrate her 8-week milestone on July 25th.

I wish the backyard breeding would stop. Why can’t we put laws in place that ask dog and cat owners to spay and neuter? We have enough affordable clinics available, and let’s be honest (and brutal) for a minute: if a new pet owner can’t afford that, then they probably should not take on such a responsibility to begin with. That, coming from me, who openly confessed that we couldn’t afford our dogs’ vaccinations for a couple of years after “Losing it All,” might sound harsh, but I mean it, and I stick by what I wrote.

We have a new sleeping routine now, a schedule my husband and I share. I feed her at 7 am, 11 am, 3 pm, and 6 pm because I am the mom, the nurse, and the one who can make her burp the hardest. Luna’s nightly potty breaks are at 9 pm and 12 am. My husband stays up longer this week, since he is on vacation, and I have the 3 am and 6 am shift (sucks to be me), but I am good at stumbling down the stairs.

We bought a baby monitor because Luna sleeps in a basket in her playpen downstairs, but it turned out to be money wasted. We already have a baby monitor named Vader. We returned the unused item.

Our dog Vader is sweet and very gentle with her. He is curious, even gave her one of his tennis balls, but quickly understood that she is too young to play. When Luna found the dog’s water bowl outside, she licked Vader’s mouth when he drank. I held my breath. He continued drinking, like it was the most normal thing.

He stands over her when the neighbor’s dogs bark, like a big brother, and yesterday evening we watched them play for the first time. Vader ran halfway into the grass, and little Luna followed, her tail wagging. She doesn’t run; she hops like a rabbit. She doesn’t have much stamina and drops into the grass or the warm asphalt when she feels like taking a break.

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She is curious and very loving. Luna doesn’t have a mean bone in her body; she is very sweet. Her eyes are full of trust and something that I am almost tempted to call love, but it might be a bit too early.

It looks like our wish will be fulfilled. Vader will have a play buddy close to his own age, someone to chase and cuddle with—other than us, because we will still insist on our cuddle routines—they are untouchable (Vader agrees).

When we got Luna, her pelvis bones were showing, we could see her ribs underneath her fur, and her big belly was full of parasites and worms, all a cruel reminder that not everybody should be allowed to care for animals. Luna and her siblings had been fed puppy food only twice a day, not four or five times, which is needed at such a young age.

Looking at Luna at first hurt me. My husband felt the same way; we both held back tears.

But today, seven days later, I proudly announce she has gained almost 2 pounds. She is 2 oz shy of weighing five pounds. We are on the right track.

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Victoria, a friend’s child, and Luna. It doesn’t get better than that. Little human and little dog, it’s a match made in heaven.

Just to give you a fair warning. There will be a lot of puppy pictures on my blog for a while.

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If you like my writing, you may enjoy my memoir Losing It All: Houseless, with Love, Dogs and Sausages. It’s the true story of how my husband and I lost almost everything during the recession, became houseless, and rebuilt our lives—without ever giving up our four dogs. It’s a story of hardship, humor, friendship, and the resilience to keep moving forward when life falls apart. Thank you for reading and for supporting independent authors.
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