What my pooch has in common with Velcro| THE MOM STOP

Shortly after dawn on a Saturday morning ― way too early to wake up on a weekend ― I cracked open my eyes to see two big brown eyes and a very wet nose just inches from my face.

In all  honesty, his loud mouth-breathing likely woke me up. Because I was asleep on the edge of the bed, that was the perfect proximity for my dog, Zeus the boxer. It was soon after that he gave me a lick across the nose, seemingly a morning wake-up call.

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“ZEUS!” I exclaimed, just the first of many times during the day that I ended up calling his name.

For instance, just a few minutes after I rolled over and did not get out bed, he brought his wet, slobber-covered tennis ball and nudged it into my back. Or later, when I discovered that he had gotten into the bathroom trash can, again. Or when he got into the dirty laundry. Or when he decided to pee in the middle of my youngest daughter’s freshly made bed.

He’s lucky he’s such a handsome dog, with an innocent-looking face.

They say, when you have children that you better get used to a lack of privacy. As a mom, there were years when I could hardly go to the bathroom alone, or have the time to take a shower without a child needing me. Now with teenagers and an elementary kid in tow, those times are a thing of the past ― or at least technically.

You see, I have a Velcro dog.

Much like a kid who doesn’t want to be alone, Zeus follows us everywhere. If I’m in the bathroom, he nudges the door of the toilet closet open, seemingly out of concern that I was out of sight, even for the briefest moment.

“ZEUS, SHOOO!” I tell him, and he inches backwards, but only slightly, still keeping his eyes on me.

If I fail to make sure the bathroom door is latched when I take a shower, he comes into the bathroom, only to lick the condensation off the glass shower door.

When sitting on the couch, watching TV, he’s there, not just nearby but often sitting on us. When making dinner, he not only has to be in the kitchen, but he lays directly at my feet, often right in front of the oven.

And last week, as I repainted the trim work in our living room while standing on a step ladder, Zeus positioned himself directly under said ladder. When I stepped down slightly to take a look at my work, he lifted his head and plopped it on my foot on the bottom rung, seemingly the perfect height as a dog-headrest.

“ZEUS!” I exclaimed.

Last week, as my daughter sat at the computer working on school work, he nudged his way under the desk. Not happy that her attention was demanded elsewhere, he decided to climb out from under the desk, slowly putting his paws on her lap until he had climbed up in her lap, almost tipping the office chair. Granted, he doesn’t understand that at 80 pounds, he’s too big to be a lap dog.

He’s our Velcro dog.

At 2 years old, I wish he didn’t chew furniture, or occasionally still mark on the upstairs carpet, when he knows better. I wish he didn’t love to get into the dirty laundry, or have a penchant for stealing my youngest daughter’s stuffed animals.

But then there are moments like now as I write this, when he’s laying calmly on my feet, deep in slumber and snoring louder than my husband. And I suddenly am thankful for Zeus, our Velcro dog. I can’t imagine life any other way.

Lydia Seabol Avant writes The Mom Stop for The Tuscaloosa News. Reach her at momstopcolumn@gmail.com.

This article originally appeared on The Tuscaloosa News: Why I yell 'Zeus!' several times each day | THE MOM STOP