June 13, 2009

The Kid and The Dog: A Photo Essay

Murphy, our adorable Boston Terrier, joined our family in January of 2004, 3 weeks before I discovered I was pregnant. Eight months later, Dawson was born and Murphy knew he was in competition with his “brother”, also known as The Tiny Crying Thing that Mom and Dad Are Always Holding.

In the beginning, Murphy would run into another room whenever Dawson cried. When Dawson was around three months old, Murphy took an interest in him. He loved to sniff his little head and lick his baby toes. Once Dawson became mobile, war began in our house.

We tried to teach Dawson to be gentle with Murphy, encouraging gentle touch and reprimanding him when he pulled on the dog’s ears and fur.

Dawson and Murphy have a love-hate relationship. At times they love to play together, the rest of the time they fight like boy and dog.

Doug and I let Dawson and Murphy sleep in our bed. Murphy has slept with us ever since I brought him home and couldn’t get him to stop whimpering unless I let him sleep curled into my neck. Dawson began sleeping in our bed at 18 months old, due to a back injury that prevented me from lifting him into and out of his crib. It was a habit we didn’t intend to start, but now we haven’t got the heart to end it.

Every morning it’s the same routine. Dawson wakes up, crawls down to the foot of the bed by Murphy and gives him hugs and kisses and a few tugs on his neck. Murphy endures it for five minutes and then tries to escape Dawson’s grasp. Dawson pulls him back, Murphy playfully nips at him, and they “fight nice” for awhile until Murphy gets fed up and leaves the room.

Yesterday morning I decided to get a few photos:

“Okay, Kid. I’ll pretend to like you for the camera. Maybe Mom will give me a snausage if I cooperate.”