Our first born

I know that I've mentioned before, very briefly, that I found out I was pregnant with Avery 4 days before we were to pick up our brand new boxer puppy. There was a brief moment where we thought that maybe we shouldn't get him, maybe it would be too much, what if he wasn't good with the baby, etc. Clearly though, we bit the bullet and dove head first into our insta-family a mere three months after we got married. 

Nixon turned out to be probably the most hilarious dog on the planet. It was like he was meant to be ours. He prepared us for parenting better than any sit down class ever could have. 

It all started two weeks after we took him home. I had just gotten out of the shower and Brad was going over to a buddy's house for a few beer. I left the bathroom, went down over the stairs to say goodbye, and in the two minutes it took me to do that, our mischievous little 10 week old, 13lb puppy ate my razor. Yep. The one I use to shave my legs with. He just ate it. All that was left was the handle. 

Naturally I phoned Brad, then Erin (breeder/doula) then the emergency vet line, all hysterically crying about how my dog just ingested a sharp object. The vet advised me to feed him as much as I could so that he would hopefully fill up with poop that would surround the razor and it would safely pass through him without damage. I remember feeding him and feeding him to the point where he actually just sat down finally and stared at his dish. He was overwhelmed with the quantity of dog food I was giving him and eventually went on a sort of hunger strike. 

Of course, after all this eating, the little bugger shit all night. And I mean ALL night. Also, I had to then go out and pick through his poo to try to find the effing razor that he went and ate. To make it all even better, when he finally shit his ass off and couldn't go any more, he went in his kennel while I went to nap, and when I got up, found that he had vomited the razor into his kennel, completely intact. Picture the top of a razor. That is what came out of him. I could have popped that thing back on it's handle and went to town on my legs. I did not though. It went in the garbage. 

That was the day Brad and I decided it would be best if Nixon had some pet insurance. 

Since that first fiasco, Nixon has found new and exciting things to snack on. One if his favorites is Brad's swept up hair clippings that he throws in the bathroom garbage after he shaves his head. There are few things more attractive than a big sloppy boxer kiss with a tongue full of your husband's hair. This also boggles us as there is nothing in that garbage to attract him to it. All that's in there is old toilet paper rolls and the scattered tissue, and of course, Brad's hair. Remember, I've been pregnant/breastfeeding since we got him. There are no periods in this house. 

Checking out my 20 week baby belly

I think my favorite story about Nixon and his exploratory palate has to be when he, as mentioned in previous blogs, ate my amniotic fluid. He had been on me like a rash for about two days before I went into labor. So much so that I even commented to my father in law that I thought something might be happening because he was acting so strangely. 


He was by my side for every contraction. He lay next to the tub while I tried to soak out my discomfort, lay next to me on the couch, and even walked, and walked, and walked with Brad and I as we tried to help things along. Finally, he was sat next to me on the loveseat and began to shift and push at me to the point where I had to stand up with the intention of dragging him off of it so that I could get more comfortable. As soon as I stood up though, my water broke. 


I screamed at Brad that my water was breaking and ran into the bathroom, stripping as I went and yelling for my pyjama pants. I called my doula from the bathroom and told her the news. She had popped home for a few minutes (she lived around the corner) and told me to save the mini pad I had on as she would need to make sure my fluid was clear. 


By this point Brad had brought my jammies but no new underwear. I left my wet clothes in a pile on the bathroom floor and quickly ran upstairs to get clean undies and change as I heard Erin coming in the front door. I came down over the steps to meet her in the porch, noticing that my clothes were strewn across the foyer. Nixon then sauntered out of the half bath, licking his chops. At the same time I noticed that the mini pad was missing from my underwear, and the small puddles that I had left in my trail were all gone. 


My dog is disgusting. But so sweet. 

Nursing Avery with Nixon close by
(PS, the french doors are closed with a couch in front of them because our Christmas tree was in the window... just FYI)

Since Avery was born, Nixon has far exceeded our expectations with how he treats her. We sometimes refer to her as "The Bald Puppy". He has clearly welcomed her into our 'pack', and although several people have told me that I would want to get rid of my dog after I had my baby, I only love him more now. Also, I can already see the relationship growing between he and Avery and I'm so glad that she will have a buddy to grow up with! The two of them are to die for!

(You can check out some of the cuteness here ;) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j9pRmca2KUI )