I talk about being a dog mum. Always. And I’m not even sorry about it. It’s like I’m genuinely so proud that I’ve managed to keep this living, breathing, slightly neurotic animal happy and healthy for almost six years that I feel the need to bring it up in conversation at every opportunity.
Even if I’m chatting to someone who has raised a small army of actual human children, I’ll still find a way to say: “Okay, impressive… but do you have a dog though?”
In my mind, that automatically makes me Super Dog Mum.
But as much as I love Hunter with my whole heart, and as proud as I am of my dog-mum status, I’m also the first to admit that it is definitely not all wagging tails and cute cuddles. There are muddy pawprints, dramatic tantrums, sleepless nights when he decides 3am is the perfect time for an emotional breakdown, and enough dog hair floating around our house to qualify as extra insulation.
Life with Hunter. Where do I even start?
For a start – he is outrageously spoilt. When Luke and I first got him six years ago, we were determined to be sensible dog parents. Structured. Disciplined. Calm. We had rules about not letting him on the furniture, not feeding him from the table, not turning him into a diva.
Spoiler alert, we failed. Spectacularly.
Within weeks he had his own side of the bed, his own collection of cosy jumpers, and two fully-grown adults wrapped firmly around his little claw. And honestly, I wouldn’t change a thing.
To sum up Hunter’s personality: he is lovable, crazy, needy, cuddly, cheeky, disruptive, and deeply, deeply dramatic. He doesn’t just have “a” personality – he has several. Some days he’s a gentle sweet angel. Other days he’s a chaotic whirlwind with very strong opinions about absolutely everything.
And three things about him are absolutely, undeniably true:
Hunter is usually always cold. I’m convinced he was born shivering. If there’s a blanket in sight, he’s under it. If there isn’t, he’ll sit and glare at you like, “Excuse me? Where is my warmth?” Summer is his happy place purely because it’s the only time he isn’t auditioning for the role of Ice Cube.
He also hates getting up early – which is hilarious considering he is, in fact, a dog. You’d think dawn walks would be his dream. Absolutely not. If you try to wake him before he feels emotionally ready, he acts like a teenager who’s been asked to go to school on a Saturday. Heavy sighs, eyes squeezed shut, dramatic flopping back onto the pillow. Mornings are not Hunter-friendly territory.
But come summertime? Oh, he is in his element. Sunbathing is his true calling. The minute the weather gets warm, he transforms into a sleek Hungarian lizard, stretched out in the garden, soaking up the rays like he’s worked a full-time job all year and is finally on a well-earned holiday.
Before getting him, Luke and I did so much research on Hungarian Vizslas. We knew they were clingy, cuddly, vocal and slightly high-maintenance. And let me confirm – every single article was correct. Hunter found his voice very early on and has never looked back. He chats back, he huffs, he grumbles, he argues, he demands, and he makes his feelings known at ALL times.
We often joke that if Hunter were a child, he’d almost certainly have an ADHD diagnosis – along with a note from the doctor confirming he requires 24/7 cuddles and unlimited access to sunshine.
But underneath all the craziness, the noise, the endless energy and the neediness, he is the most loving, loyal, big-hearted dog. He’s been part of our family for six beautiful years now, and sometimes I look at him curled up beside me – usually wrapped in three blankets because, again, always cold – and I feel ridiculously grateful that we get to be his people.
So happy gotcha day to my crazy, cuddly, sun-worshipping, sleep-loving best boy. Hunter, you’ve filled our home with laughter, love, a little bit of chaos, and more joy than you’ll ever know.
Here’s to many more years of warm blankets, late starts, summer sunbathing sessions and unconditional dog-mum pride.
