I still can’t believe it, to be honest. My 79-year-old mother-in-law—who lives alone and whose health isn’t exactly stellar—just got herself a puppy. Not an older, calmer dog. Not a cat or a goldfish. A full-blown, zoomies-every-hour, chew-everything-in-sight, needs-to-be-potty-trained puppy.
When she told me, I thought she was joking. I laughed. She didn’t. “He’s my new best friend,” she said, practically glowing. “He’ll keep me active.”
I just about choked. Active? She can barely make it through the grocery store without needing to sit down. And now she’s going to chase a tiny fur tornado around the house all day? Who’s going to clean up after the accidents? Handle the midnight whining? Take him for walks in the freezing rain? Certainly not her. Let’s be honest—we all know who’ll be expected to step in when things get out of hand. Spoiler alert: It’s me.
I tried to gently suggest a lower-maintenance pet. Maybe a senior cat. Even a bird. But no—she insisted it had to be a puppy. “He’ll give me something to care for,” she said. And I get it. I really do. Loneliness is hard, and after losing her husband a few years ago, she’s been searching for purpose.
But here’s the problem: Puppies are not therapy. Puppies are work. Constant work. And while she’s falling head over heels for the little guy (his name is Max, by the way), I’m already seeing how this is going to end. She’ll get attached. She’ll try her best. But eventually, the reality of puppy ownership is going to catch up with her—and then who’s going to take over?
I feel like I’m watching a slow-moving disaster, and no one else seems to see it. Her friends think it’s “adorable.” My partner says, “Let’s just see how it goes.” But I know exactly how it’ll go. It’ll go exactly how these things always go.
Am I overreacting? Maybe. But someone in this family has to think beyond the wagging tail and puppy kisses. I’m not trying to be the villain—I genuinely want her to be happy. I just wish that happiness didn’t come wrapped in fur, fueled by chaos, and armed with tiny razor-sharp teeth. Because when the novelty fades and reality sets in, I’m worried she won’t be able to keep up—and I’ll be the one trying to hold it all together while pretending this was somehow the plan all along.