When I left to go to University, our dog was nearing her end - she was in the teens, and sadly was put down in the fall during my final year. A few months later (although, with the amount I managed to get home - it seemed like only days), My parents brought home Kodee - a fluff ball mop of loving and cuddles; also know as a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. When my sister moved out to attend college in Peterborough, my parents decided to bring home ANOTHER Cavalier, and named this one Becky. Becky is the complete opposite of her sister - she’s more crazy than anything else. Don’t even ask me how many things in my room she’s chewed.
Before she got Becky, my mom always joked that since she had two kids who moved out, she needed two dogs to replace us. Turns out, it wasn’t actually a joke.

Don't let their cute looks and pink sweaters fool you - they may just be a students worst nightmare.
My sister and I are both living at home this summer, and things have changed quite a bit since adding two dogs to the family.
For instance, my mom made the pups’ a delicious breakfast with squash, kibble, and fresh fruit the other day. My sister and I were left fend for ourselves, and ended up with burnt toast.
The dogs get fed promptly at the same time, every night - and they ALWAYS eat before us (”They’re hungry!” my mom says). They’re usually fed by 6:30, but my sister and I are lucky if dinner is on the table before 8:30!
Just yesterday, I had a shower then made my way to the kitchen to make a sandwich. My mom was washing the floor. “Don’t walk on my clean floor!” she said. “But Mom,” I protested, “I just got out of the shower and my feet are CLEAN”. She made me stand on a rug and hop across the kitchen to the living room (where there’s carpet) when leaving. This is the same woman who laughs and goes, “oh how cute!” when Kodee and Becky chase a squirrel through the garden and then run into - and through - the house with muddy feet.
And heaven forbid I leave something on the kitchen table when I leave the room (a glass, or a pad of paper); but it’s “adorable” how Becky yanks 15 different toys out of her bin and strews them around. In fact, her favourite spot to leave them is near my bathroom door, so I trip in the middle of the night.
When we run out of squash (which the pups get with every meal), it’s the end of the world and my mom or dad must RUN, not walk, to the nearest store to replenish the supply. I’ve been waiting two and a half weeks for my mom to remember we’re out of mayo.
When I was really little, I drew my mom an amazing picture, full of colours. The problem was, I coloured it in crayon… on the kitchen wall. Subsequently, I got my toys taken away and was sent to my room for the day. Becky (who is 15 months old I might add) still isn’t house trained. In fact, on one occasion we watched her play outside for a good 15 minutes, ask to come in, and promptly go on the rug in the den. When Becky has an ‘accident’ (and I use that term loosely, because I think it’s safe to say she just doesn’t like going outside!), she gets scolded and locked up for about 5-10 minutes before she whimpers and is let out again because, oh, she looks so sad.
And to make matters worse, she calls me “Kaitlyn” and Kaitlyn “Lauren” more times than I can count in a week when she gets flustered, but I’ve yet to see her confuse Kodee and Becky!
Last week when my mom yelled “Girls! Come here!” and my sister and I went to see what she wanted, her response was rather surprising: “Not YOU!” she laughed, “The dogs!”
Ouch.
So here’s my advice to all you college-bound students: be careful! Your parents might just replace you with a pet or two… and before long, they’re be shouting “girls!” and mean the dogs.
But, I do have to admit - it’s hard to stay irritated at Kodee when she puts her paws on your shoulders and gives you a puppy hug. And Becky is just so gosh darn cute when she lies outside my bedroom with her nose under the gate (see the beginning of the post on her chewing to understand why there’s a gate there!) begging to come in and lie on the bed (or see my boyfriend, who I think SHE thinks is a dog!)
So although I will admit to referring to my mother’s new ‘children’ as the spawn of satan on more than one occasion…
…they’re just so hard not to love.




















