Molly left her mark on a console table.
Milo wears his birthday hat as he turned 14 last month.
Marc LaBossiere / Free Press
Milo’s first day at the house at four months of age.
The staircase-landing edge was chewed long ago during Milo’s teething stage.
Every morning before his breakfast, Milo gets his kitchen cuddles from ‘dad.’
I recall getting upset early on with Molly, our little Havanese-cockapoo, when she would partially damage something in our house. Whether it was having an accident that lifted the edges of the second-floor laminate flooring, or chewing something she wasn’t supposed to, it always felt as though the issue should be remedied ASAP. But as the years passed, the urgency to fix something the dog did began to wane. Now, it seems those little mishaps still noticeable throughout the house have become a source of reminiscence.
When Molly was six years old, Milo, our Lhasa Apso-cockapoo, joined our family when he was just four months old. Within a short time, Molly accepted him as her little brother (from another mother), and they enjoyed each other’s company very much throughout the years.
Although they both were very well behaved in the house, there was always a little mischief to be had. Molly loved to antagonize her fur-brother by giving him playful love bites on the snout. And even when Milo had grown to double her size, he would still indulge her playfulness — she was the queen of the house.
As a young puppy, Molly witnessed the building of my studio addition. She was an independent spirit, unlike Milo who’d prefer to shadow our every move. Before the studio had been fully insulated, I noticed Molly would wander off into the unfinished space on occasion. I always thought it was due to her curiosity — she loved to sniff around and investigate.
But unbeknownst to me, she had been using an area on the far side of the yet-to-be-used stacked drywall as an indoor potty — there must have been 50 tiny piles of frozen poops and an assortment of pee stains along the sub-floor. Molly was a sneaky little girl, and knew she could get away with doing her business inside the house hidden away on the other side of the pile of drywall.
She never liked having to go outside to do her business in the winter, because her tiny little paws would freeze up before she was through — one paw would lift, then another, as if she had to dance just to avoid a frozen foot. I suppose sneaking into the unfinished studio was her way of minimizing her need to brave the snow. Once the studio was completed, I had to keep a watchful eye to break her habit.
Milo on the other hand, rarely has accidents in the house. And when he does, it’s usually only when he’s not feeling well.
Milo’s claim to fame as a puppy was chewing women’s sandals. And for some odd reason, it was usually the left sandal.
Milo did eventually graduate to chewing other things while he was teething, and that was pretty much anything snout-high: the lowest tread of the staircase, the bottom shelf of a bookcase or console table, the edge of the staircase landing, and many, many spot on baseboards.
Once Milo turned four or five, however, this chewing trend greatly dissipated. Although he does love to hunt for treats hidden within his various toys and will chew them to bits, he never really gnaws on household items anymore. As such, it seemed like the perfect time to address the various “areas of chew,” strewn throughout the many rooms of the house. However, it no longer felt necessary for some reason, and it wasn’t until recently that I understood why.
In October 2019, a few weeks before her 15th birthday, we lost Molly to an eagle attack (of all things) in our back acre. It was a horrendous morning. Our only solace was believing she must have passed quickly over the rainbow bridge.
Not knowing how our poor Milo would react became an immediate concern. As such, we made sure to include him in our grieving process, including allowing him the time to perform his final sniffs goodbye. As the weeks passed, it appeared as though Milo was acclimating to the change in circumstances — all he’d ever known since he was four months old was his human parents and his older and smaller fur-sister Molly.
Not knowing how Milo would react to being all alone during the day while we were at work, I mounted video cameras throughout the house to monitor his behaviour — it would be the first time in 10 years he would be left completely on his own. To my astonishment, Milo seemed to be doing well — snoozing most of the day and waiting by the window in the late afternoon for the first glimpse of his humans driving up after the workday was through.
Although there was a slight fear Milo could have regressed to his chewing ways due to the anxiety of being alone, or out of sheer boredom, he never again chomped on household items. Milo has always been a very good boy.
Milo turned 14 in November, shortly after the five-year anniversary marking Molly’s passing in October. Every day, at least one of the many chewed spots in the house catches my eye, remnants of the puppy years when Molly or Milo had gotten into mischief while we weren’t watching.
However, I no longer yearn to fix these spots, as they have become welcome reminders of good times with our fur-babies, much like the height-lines marked on the inside of a door jamb as kids grow older. It just seems wrong to eliminate them by “fixing” them. Instead, we will continue to celebrate them.
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