It was a ridiculous time to get a puppy.
We live in a NYC apartment with no yard, so there are a lot of walks. Twelve at first, now down to four a day.
My husband John has Parkinson’s. By the end of the day, holding the leash is difficult for him. I’m often exhausted, too.
Then there’s Ocean, my neurodivergent teenager, who has homework and his own life and who may or may not be available for the final walk of the day. This can become a whole thing.
Sometimes, Ocean and I end up taking Peanut out together. We’re tired and a little punchy, walking side by side in the dark, with no particular demands on each other. And then Ocean starts telling me things about school.
I don’t ask Ocean what happened at school anymore.
I know better. He’ll grunt, or tell me “fine” or “nothing,” and that’ll be the end of the conversation. But out on a walk, things sometimes come out on their own.
It’s one of the unexpected gifts of having a dog, and one of the things I loved discussing live with Cindy Ojczyk, author of Mom Loves the Dogs More. We had a warm and juicy conversation about raising neurodivergent kids alongside furry ones.
The Unexpected Gift of Having a Dog
Peanut is a beloved member of our family, although bringing him into our lives was not exactly a smooth transition. Ocean had wanted a dog so badly when he was younger, but John was the one lobbying daily, using unfair tactics like cute puppy photos. I resisted the idea for years because I knew I’d be the one doing all the work.
Training a puppy is so much work on its own. Add in a new job for me and brain surgery for John, all in the same month. We definitely should have waited.
But one day John was scrolling pet adoption sites, and he showed me a photo:
Before I could think, my mouth said, “Yes, that’s my dog.”
Peanut is incredibly cuddly, and he’s always so happy to see Ocean. He rolls onto his back for belly rubs and has even learned to knock on Ocean’s bedroom door with his nose. We’re still working on his habit of stealing stinky socks from Ocean’s room. We’re also working with Ocean to stop leaving his socks on the floor.
There’s something so regulating about having a fluffy friend around. You can pet him, cuddle with him, or simply sit next to him. You don’t have to explain anything or find the right words.
The comfort is just being in the presence of another mammal.
I don’t want to make having a pet sound like a magic solution at all. It’s a lot of work, expense, and plenty of opportunities for family conflict. Then there are those evenings when we’re all exhausted and nobody wants to take him for that last walk.
Ocean is 15 now, and parenting a teenager is different from raising a little kid. He’s becoming more independent. He has his own opinions, his own boundaries, and his own ways of doing things. Most of the work for me is learning when to step in and when to give him space.
I talked with Cindy about how raising Ocean has changed me. I’m more patient in some ways, and definitely much more tired.
I’ve had to keep learning to look beyond behavior and ask myself what might be going on underneath it. That shift has mattered more to me than finding one perfect parenting strategy. Every kid is different, so the things that help one child may not work the same way for another. We have to keep getting to know the person in front of us.
Parenting Ourselves Along the Way
Cindy and I talked about what happens when we get it wrong as parents.
I told her about a divisive text exchange with Ocean. I was hurt when he refused to take Peanut out. I was also tired and reactive. When I went back and looked at the messages the next day, I could see that he’d actually been pretty neutral. I was the one who had brought some fire into the conversation.
I don’t recommend arguing over text, but in this case, having the messages in writing gave me something to look at later, when I was rested and feeling more neutral myself. I apologized.
I could acknowledge that I’d been tired without making that Ocean’s problem. I’ve gotten pretty good at apologizing to Ocean. Since I’m human, I still react, but I have gotten better at recognizing when I need to repair.
Cindy and I talked about how parenting can bring up triggers we didn’t even know we had. Something our kid does may touch an older, more tender place in us, and suddenly we’re screaming. When that happens, the work comes later. We can look at what happened, try to understand our part, and offer ourselves compassion, too. A lot of this work happens inside us.
I’m still learning. I suspect I will be for a long time.
Connection Changes as Our Kids Grow Up
One of the things I’m learning as Ocean gets older is that my role keeps changing.
He usually leaves for school before I’m awake. He does his homework in the school library now before coming home. When he comes home, he may stop for a quick belly rub for Peanut, then head straight to his room.
It’s amazing! And a little bittersweet.
When our kids are younger, so much of parenting is hands-on. We feed them, clothe them, bathe them, arrange appointments, find therapists, help them navigate school, and interpret their needs. As they get older, some of that changes. They have their own opinions, boundaries, grooming choices, and ideas about how much help they want from us.
Ocean has always been good at telling me what he thinks. Even when he was little, he would tell me to stop singing or that he didn’t like something. He’s continued to advocate for himself as he’s grown up.
He also has clear boundaries about what I share publicly. Ocean is part of my life and my writing, but his life is his own. That’s part of the work now: finding ways to stay connected while giving him room to become himself.
Sometimes that connection happens on a bedtime walk with Peanut.
It’s dark. We’re silent for a few paces. Then Ocean starts telling me about where he’s at in his history textbook, or his latest software engineering project, or his plans for his sixteenth birthday.
I can’t make those moments happen. I can’t ask the right question or come up with the perfect parenting strategy to get him to open up.
I just have to be there, beside him, walking the dog.
Maybe that’s part of what Peanut has brought to our family, along with the stolen socks, the belly rubs, and all the hard work of raising a puppy: These little pockets of pressure-free time with Ocean that I didn’t know how to create otherwise.
I’m glad Peanut’s part of our family. Even if we probably should have waited.
A kinder future for our kids begins with kindness toward ourselves.
