From Parenthood to Boredom: Ferocity Comes In Many Packages

A mother’s love knows no bounds.

When I think about kind gestures, I think of my mother. She’s one of the most thoughtful women I know, and I’m not alone in my assessment. She is well-liked by many. When my mother took on the role, she likely didn’t expect to have a child who would emotionally depend on her in their sixties — enter me. While we’ve lived apart, I’m never far away.

My mother and I often reminisce about the olden days when I would get into trouble and call her for help. It was always her motto. No matter what time, day, or night, if I needed her, she’d be there. And she was right. Even if, realistically, she wasn’t the right woman for the job, she’d never refuse.

Years back, I became trapped inside a home with an out-of-control snarling Doberman. Despite being the dog lover in the family, the dog had me scared. Her name was Tanya, and for that night, I was “The Babysitter.” Tanya’s human companion was merely a child.

“Call us if you need us,” the parents of Mikey had told me as they slipped out the door.

That night wasn’t the first time I had babysat for him, nor the first time Tanya and I had met. The dog and I were good friends. I walked her often. I loved her for the beautiful spirit she was, but always had a tinge of fear and respect toward her protective breed. Had it not been for her captivating baby blue eyes, I would never have met her.

Once Mikey was born, aside from being Tanya’s periodic dog walker, I babysat Mikey from time to time, and the world seemed right — until that night when Tanya went into a frenzy.

I put Mikey to bed and carried the baby monitor into the basement, closing the door behind me. It made sense, but looking back on it now, it doesn’t sound like a wise decision.

As I watched TV and munched on snacks, I could hear Mikey’s peaceful breathing. All was going right in this picture until Tanya barked. It was normal at first, then growling accompanied it. In a matter of minutes, Tanya was utterly out of control.

And she was between the baby and me. How he slept through the racket, I’ll never know. Dumbfounded about what to do, I quickly called Mom.

“Mom, Tanya’s out of control. I don’t know why she’s going crazy. What if the baby wakes up? I have to get her to stop.”

At first, there was silence, then mom didn’t disappoint.

“Should I come over? I don’t know what I can do, but I can come there.”

“But you’re afraid of dogs, Mom. What can you do?”

Just the soothing tone of her voice helped ease my frazzled nerves.

“Sure, please come. But I’m not sure I can get past her and get to you.”

We hung up, and I waited. Then the phone rang. It was the parents. They were calling to check on their son and ensure everything was okay.

But it wasn’t.

I explained to the mom about Tanya’s behavior. I said she sounded like she was frothing at the mouth and ready to rip everybody to shreds.

Calmly, Sharon said that Tanya felt bored and was lonely. With me locked in the basement, she had nothing left to do but watch out the window. Sharon said Tanya’s likely seen a dog or person passing by that set her off, and without my intervention, she’d continue to carry on.

“Come out of the basement and call her. She’ll be so happy to see you. That’s the only way to stop her barking. We’re coming home shortly, but don’t worry, everything will be okay. How’s Mikey?”

“He’s good. He’s sound asleep. But I’d like to go check on him.”

“Call her to you,” Sharon urged. “She’ll love you to death.”

That’s what I was afraid of. Tanya would love me to death with her sharp fangs and muscular body. How well did the parents know their dog? How much could I trust them?

I walked up the staircase, took a deep breath, opened the basement door, and waited for something to happen.

But nothing did.

I waited some more.

Still nothing.

Then I heard it. Mikey began fussing. Not a lot — just a little, but enough for my heart to race.

I walked to the bottom of the stairwell and saw Tanya barking at whatever she was eyeing at the second-floor window. I took a step back into the main corridor, bit my lip, and called her name. That’s all it took. As I watched this eighty-five-pound dog come bounding at me, tongue flapping, I didn’t know if she’d attack me. I wasn’t sure if I’d live to see another day.

And attack me, she did.

When she reached me, she threw her full weight on me. Her front paws jumped on my shoulders as she licked my face in delight. She couldn’t have been happier to see me, and I couldn’t be more relieved. She was the loveable dog I knew. All she wanted was attention.

We went upstairs, and I listened at the door. Mikey had fallen back asleep. I took a quick peek and saw all was well, and then I headed downstairs.

That’s when I heard the knock on the door.

It was Mom.

She had come. Despite dog fears and all, her daughter came first.

I told her everything was fine. The dog was calm, the baby was sleeping, and the parents were on their way home shortly. I told her I’d be home soon, so she happily left.

This wasn’t the first or last time my mother’s come to my rescue. Just last month, she accompanied me to help ease my anxiety about getting my COVID booster, and she helped me get home after my MRI.

Her fierce love for me is never-ending, and her support is everlasting.

I’m the luckiest woman in the world to have a mother like her. I hope my kids feel the same way about me. I have a good chance with a role model like that.

Thank you to Trista Signe Ainsworth and Thank You Notes for being the perfect place to thank my mother for the generous woman she is and share my gratitude to all who read and engage with this story.