Creativity in storytelling allows us to explore heartwarming and touching tales of the unique bond between pets and babies. Most pets, even the largest and toughest dogs, have the potential to become the first best friends of infants. This story revolves around Bonnie Michalek and her pet bullmastiff Brutus, portraying the incredible sensitivity and love that dogs can exhibit towards children.
For Bonnie and her husband, Brutus was not just a pet; he was family, often referred to as their “first baby.” When Bonnie became pregnant with their actual first child, Brutus displayed an extraordinary sense of protectiveness even before she realized she was pregnant. Bonnie attested to Brutus “knowing” about her pregnancy before she did, and this reassured them that he would be comfortable with the new addition to the family.
Brutus had always displayed an affection for children, getting excited whenever he heard kids outside laughing. His connection with children became even more evident when Bonnie introduced baby Kayden to him. Brutus greeted the newborn with love, gently licking the baby’s face.
The bond between Brutus and Kayden deepened as they became close buddies. Brutus was not only willing to protect Kayden but also to share his most cherished possession, a yellow plush ball that he clung to dearly. This ball was the only toy he wouldn’t destroy in a matter of minutes. Whenever Kayden cried, Brutus would instinctively find his beloved fluff ball and offer it to comfort the baby.
This touching story of Brutus exemplifies the love and care that pets can provide to babies, highlighting the unique connection that can develop between them. Brutus’s willingness to comfort and protect Kayden illustrates the incredible bond that can form between pets and children. It’s a heartwarming tale that reminds us of the genuine love and loyalty that dogs can offer to their human family members. Share this beautiful story to celebrate the enduring bond between pets and babies.
The pet I’ll never forget: Ella the puppy threw up on me, snubbed me and after 10 years decided to love me
Mum, Dad, my brother Michael: everyone in the family got more affection from our ridgeback-staffie cross. And guess whose bed she used to poo on…
I think the tone was set when Ella threw up over me on the way back from the Dogs Trust. She was three months old, rolling around on the back seat between me and my twin brother, Michael (we’d just turned seven), and wasn’t enjoying her first trip in a car. She could have been sick anywhere – over the seat, over the floor – but for some reason she decided to climb on to me first.
It was the start of a beautiful but strangely one-sided friendship. Ella, a ridgeback-staffie cross, was the perfect dog: playful, energetic, naughty and tolerant. She would let us poke and prod her without complaint, turn her ears inside-out or dress her up in T-shirts or the thick woollen poncho my Greek Cypriot grandma knitted her for the British winter. And she was endlessly loving, at least to the other members of the family. Me? Too often it was as if I didn’t exist. If Michael and I were sitting on the sofa, she’d bound up to him. If I came home after a day out with my dad, he was the one she’d jump at. If I tried to take her for a walk by myself, she’d drag her feet and insist that I fetch my brother.
To add insult to injury, about once a year she would do a poo in the house. Not just anywhere, though: she’d climb the stairs to my room and leave it in a neat pile on top of my bed.
I can’t pretend I wasn’t offended by Ella’s attitude – I loved her just as much as anyone. But it took me a while to realise that in her eyes we were both bitches fighting for our place in the pack. I read that dogs are 98.8% wolf, even yappy little chihuahuas. Ella was a definite she-wolf and my mother (she who opened the tin of dog food every night) was the undisputed alpha female. Ella could handle that fact, but she didn’t want to be the omega female. That was me.
Working out the reasons for Ella’s lack of sisterhood, understanding that her indifference was atavistic and not just casual, didn’t make me any less jealous of my brother, who always took great pleasure in the fact that Ella seemed to prefer him. But I resigned myself to the situation. And then one day (happy ending, anyone?) everything changed. I must have been 16 or 17, we’d been away for a fortnight in France, and when we got back it was me she ran up to first, whining and twisting with pleasure at seeing me again. After that it was like all those years of competition had never happened. We were best friends for ever, or at least for the couple of years she had left. Ella finally loved me.
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