We don’t deserve dogs.

A few days ago there was a lapse in communication between me and my husband that resulted in our dog being left outside until 2:30 a.m.. I woke up in the middle of the night, noticed she wasn’t in our room and panicked. My heart sank and my stomach dropped out of my body when I realized she never got let inside for the night.

She was our baby long before our children came along. We used most of our college savings to get her and then the emergency vet trips took the rest as we navigated through the puppy years of: eat everything in sight.

She’s taken a backseat since we’ve had human kids; I can’t deny that. Sometimes I forget she’s around on the rough days. I feel guilty mostly because I think she deserves more of me than I give her. And then I think of the kids.

She has all the patience in the world as our babies try to figure out her soft fur and long tail. She doesn’t bat an eye when the toddler drives trucks along her back or little hands hold on to the end of a leash. She has more patience than I do, without a doubt. She’s the best listener in our house and almost always the only one to respond to a request the first time.

She’s a gem. I don’t deserve her. I’ve always known that, but it really sank in when I thought she was gone in the wee hours of the morning last week.

Thanks for always being there, Heidi. You have never questioned my parenting even though you have been the one to experience the worst, and first, of it.

I promise I won’t forget you outside again. Or at least if I do, I’ll make sure to think of you before 2:30 a.m.