2008 When I was 21 I saw a cute dog in a pet store and had to have him. Paid $2500 and walked out with a basset hound. Fred.

2010, my friend’s dog had 11 puppies that needed homes. Dog 2. Harley. Some kind of pittie mastiff mix. Brought her home at 7 weeks old.

2015 dog 3 came from the shelter. She was at least 3 at the time and had already had at least one litter. Maggie. Boxer/pittie/mutt.

2017 baby 1

2020 9 months pregnant with baby 2, 1 week into a global pandemic and out of nowhere Fred (who is now 12) gets very sick and we let him go. I hold him while he passes, sobbing onto a giant baby belly while my 3 year old waits in the car.

2023 Maggie decides she’s had enough and grows a brain tumor. She was a rescue so we can’t be sure but we think she was at least 10 years old. I held her paw and rubbed her head when she took her last breath.

Last month we found out we were expecting our 3rd and absolutely final baby. So naturally Harley decides it’s time to have a seizure.

Thinking this was the end, as she’s 14.5, we run some basic blood work to determine how to move forward. Turns out, she’s the healthiest 14.5 year old dog to ever live. Zero systemic reason for a seizure. No signs of the end being near.

Risking sounding like a terrible person, I’m done. I’m done having to clean up pee when she can’t make it outside. I’m done having a ‘dog smell’ in my house no matter how hard I clean and how many cleaners I hire. I’m tired of dog hair splinters. I’m tired of paying for sitters when we’re on vacation. And having to come home between baseball games to let her out. I’m tired of picking up poop in the backyard. I’m tired of looking forward to a painful goodbye. I’m dreading having to make an end of life decision.

I’m almost 17 years into this commitment and I’m tired.

I will hold her when she passes. I will take care of her till her last breath. And then I will never, ever, have another pet.