This post originally appeared as "Parenting, Pre-Wedding" on our old site, Born to be a Bride.
I will preface this one by affirming that yes, Josh and I already had a child together in the form of our adorable four-year-old cat Dolce. Better known in our home as “The D,” this delicious little monster is the joy of our lives and he follows us around, licks our faces, purrs like crazy when he sees us, the works. He is pure heaven and incredibly easy to take care of. So, even though we call him “The Son,” he’s much more like a cool little buddy that hangs out a lot than an actual child who requires care.
Enter Harry.
Josh and I have been wanting a puppy for a long time, but we thought it best to wait until after the wedding. Vet bills, NYC travel, the cat’s ability to adjust, both of us working more than full-time hours… it just seemed like too much. But on a sunny Sunday after a delicious brunch and a stop at his office, we were torn. Should we go to West Elm and spend our engagement gift cards? Should we head to Target and pick up the hangers I need to complete my closet organization project (more on that later!)? No, friends, my fiance decided we were headed to Dallas Animal Services, also known as the “pound,” to “visit” the puppies. We’d heard so much good stuff about the facility and he wanted to just check out.
Dun. Dun.
“We’re not actually getting a puppy, we’re just looking,” he scolded as my face filled with glee.
“I know,” I retorted, teenage-style, exasperated but secretly eager. “We have the wedding to think about! And The D. We haven’t even asked him if he wants a sibling!”
Three hours later I was holed up in a visitation room with a two-month old lab mix licking off my Christian Dior lipgloss while Josh stood at reception filling out our adoption papers. And now, four days after that, a bundle of blond-and-black fuzzy deliciousness has taken over our home and our hearts.
We are literally living in a house divided. Cats and puppies can’t just be thrown in together so we have Dolce enclosed in the bedroom/walk-in closet/bathroom section of the home with myriad toys, a cat castle, and a 24-hour running stream of MTV (his favorite) to keep him happy. Harry hangs in the open living room/kitchen area where he alternates between wrestling a plush lion or chewing on his parents’ fingers before falling asleep at random intervals. The two have nightly visitations during which no one has gotten aggressive yet. In fact, there was a nose-to-nose moment so delightful that I am hoping we can start letting them roam free in a few weeks.
For now, we are exhausted from a night of crate-crying and doing our best to give everyone lots of love (Mom has 30 min with one while Dad has 30 min with the other. Rotate. Repeat). At four in the morning one of us gives up and heads out to the kitchen, frees the little one from his cage and brings him onto the couch for a snuggle to let everyone get some relief from the poor baby’s bad dreams.
This crazed adventure has so far been filled with cuddly moments, great photo opps, a new appreciation for our amazingly tolerant cat, and hey, even a few exhausted tears. But if this is a preview to what it will be like to parent a human child with my betrothed down the line, my future is looking pretty damn sweet.
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