I looked at my husband the other day and smiled. “We’ve become a cliche’, you know. Empty nesting parents with fluffy little white dogs.” It was kind of a shock. We used to be cool kids, going to the beach, hanging out in coffee houses listening to good live music, going on trips.
We have a nest empty of human kids and instead have two rescued dogs, Tucker and Pete, to keep us on our toes and to parent. Oh, how the cool kids have fallen, but for some reason, I don’t mind. We go on trips to see our human kids, and they’re never far from our minds. We worry about them just as much, but with the trust that they’re grown-ups, make good choices with their lives, and are smart. As in smarter and having more common sense than I had at their ages.
So we explore dog parks, take our fur kids on walks, get their beards trimmed and nails done. Buy them toys and treats. Star Wars tee shirts. (Sigh.) They snooze ion little brown dog beds in my office, and when it comes close to time for my husband to come home, they watch out our front windows. When they hear his car in the driveway or key in the door lock, they bound downstairs to joyfully greet him.
If we go out of town, we feel guilty and talk about them as we did our children on date nights eons ago. Yeah, we were once the cool kids but now we have two small fluffy rescued dogs who tethered themselves to our hearts. And you know what? It feels pretty darn good.