Why a pre-teen needs a dog (but not a mom)

File photo: Duke, our ancient, blind, diabetic Airedale, has started to leave unmentionable 'gifts' on the back door step each morning.

File photo: Duke, our ancient, blind, diabetic Airedale, has started to leave unmentionable 'gifts' on the back door step each morning.

Published Jun 25, 2015

Share

London - Duke, our ancient, blind, diabetic Airedale, has started to leave unmentionable “gifts” on the back door step each morning.

The canine OAP is now so slow moving he can no longer make it to our tiny lawn to relieve himself.

He’s confused and increasingly incapacitated by ailments requiring expensive trips to the vet.

I find it all very annoying. I have long since fallen out of love with the family dog - he’s like a troublesome, foul-smelling, fifth child.

I know you’re thinking: “Poor Duke, he can’t help it.” But you don’t live with him. A diabetic dog we have to inject with insulin twice a day is no picnic. It would try the patience of the most ardent mutt-lover, and there are side-effects too gruesome to mention here.

But his inevitable demise, and the ever-more unpleasant tasks associated with caring for him, aren’t the real problem. After all, I come from a long line of dog-crazies: my gran showed Dalmatians at Crufts and my parents never had fewer than five rescue dogs during my childhood, so I am in the canine camp.

That’s not the issue for us - the trauma here is an unexpected one for me as a mom: Doddery Duke has become a symbol of my eldest’s gradual separation into the more independent teenage world.

She’s nearly 13, trapped between childhood and adulthood. She wants unconditional love, not the love of anyone telling her what to do or protecting her. The dog is the only one who offers the former, and she draws closer to him daily.

Any criticism of Duke is an excuse for her to channel her angst in my direction. “Why can’t you just be nice to him?” she says when I push him off the rug where he is licking parts no dog should.

“Stop shouting at him - he’s only showing me he loves me,” she complains dramatically when I drag his head from her school bag where he’s scoffing a leftover snack.

And, of course, the elephant in the room is that he’s bound to pop his clogs just before she takes the most important exams of her life. We didn’t factor that in when we got him 12 years ago. This fills me with dread. How can I protect her from that awful sadness? It’s like a small maternal bruise which won’t heal until after the inevitable happens.

I can’t help but resent Duke more because of it. Life would be a lot easier if he made an early exit, and I find myself absent mindedly saying, “Not long now, Duke” every time I walk him across the lawn to avoid more early morning door step deposits.

Her fury when I try to stop him accidentally using the kitchen as a loo seems to be part of her need to prove I am the uncaring mom, in order for us to metaphorically part ways. This is growing up, isn’t it?

They say pets teach your children how to look after something. But as far as I can tell, having this particular dog has taught them nothing except that it’s not good to headbutt a teacher’s crotch, and that no one likes a smelly animal licking their baby’s face.

He’s particularly bad on the lead, despite going to three sets of dog-training classes. It would be easier to get a child to eat lobster thermidor than to get him to ‘heel’. One trainer said the best she could do was teach him to sit. She failed.

He also a food thief of epic proportions and once peed against the leg of a man in a deckchair, costing me a lot in dry cleaning. He’s been removed from the Regent’s Park pond twice, has stolen burgers from campsite barbecues, emptied the neighbours’ bins and been rescued from a cliff edge by a human chain.

As the end nears, I am starting to wonder if having a pet has been worth it. Yet, one day this week I found my daughter lying over him in his bed. She strokes his ears and he snores, oblivious to the affection.

What will she do when he’s not here? Who will offer this gentle, warm, furry calm for what will be her most turbulent years yet?

After she has gone to school, I find myself googling Battersea Dogs & Cats Home. The things you do for your children.

Lorraine Candy is editor- in-chief of Elle magazine.

Daily Mail

Related Topics: