Helicopter Dog Mom: How Did I Get So Dog-Crazy?

My name is Rica, and I am a helicopter dog mom. It has taken a great deal of introspection and self-examination for me to admit such a thing. Were you to scroll through my phone, you would find 867 photos of one incredibly spoiled pit bull. Wide-eyed in the kitchen, a biscuit dangling in sight. Lounging in the backyard, the sun sprinkling gold on her belly. Confused in the living room, sporting a tutu (handmade by yours truly). I’ve taken photos of our Princess Mia Sophia with the pride and triumphant spirit of a mother with her child. I know because I have children. Or had? My sons are men now, so perhaps they are to blame for my obsession with this other species? How dare they grow up! Ingrates.

Sons for dog — seems a perfectly reasonable swap. In fact, they have many similarities — the marathon sleeping, the begging for food. But most of all, I believe my dog is worthy of being mothered. Or smothered (with affection, that is).

We met Mia three years ago, after she was removed from an unfit home and tossed in a shelter. I saw her electric brown eyes, pleading behind a chain-link fence and a current passed through me. She was locked up, imprisoned and devoid of all the dog commodities she deserved: a fluffy bed, a basket of squeaky toys and backyard in which to sunbathe and roll in wet grass. This realization jolted my inner momma bear to action. “I need her,” I told my husband. But more appealing was the idea that she needed me.

Perhaps the real evidence that I’ve become a helicopter dog mom is a paper trail of veterinary visits. Receipts for high-priced food, various blood tests and scans for potential diseases, disorders and illnesses. “You tend to panic,” my husband said yesterday after I abruptly switched vets and made him load up our girl and take her across town to see a new doctor. My instincts told me the first vet had not been committed to finding the root cause of Mia’s sudden loss of balance. As it turns out, there was indeed more to discover, a diagnosis the vet had missed. Helicopter mom knows best.

The Helicopter Dog Mom Meaning

What does it mean to be a helicopter dog mom? The answer is of course subjective, but it most certainly equates to endless love. The kind that compels you to take a gazillion photos of your dog doing extraordinary things like watching a squirrel from the window. “See that contemplative look,” you say, “my baby is clearly a genius.”

There are countless ways I obsess over my dog, but I’ll sum it up with a few off of the top of my head. If you can relate, you’re probably a helicopter dog mom, too.

My Are-You-A-Helicopter-Dog-Mom quiz

Do you…

Baby talk, or serenade your dog with songs like Prince’s “Could You Be the Most Beautiful Girl in the World,” or Whitney Houston’s “Greatest Love of All.” Basically, you insert your dog’s name into every love song you hear.
Sleep on the edge of your king-size mattress and wake up with sciatica while your dog snores beside you, spread out like peacock plumage.
Eat french fries from the dollar menu but feed your dog high-priced, prescription kibble and spend hours researching the healthiest dog treats, chew sticks and bones.
Leave parties and social gatherings early because you don’t want your dog to feel lonely at home.
Find yourself soggy and mosquito bitten because your dog demanded a walk in the rain. At midnight!
Know the names of every dog in the neighborhood (all your dog’s friends), but have trouble remembering the names of their humans.
Read all the canine blogs and training guides but throw away the rules when your dog puts a paw on our lap.
You can’t remember your own age, but you are certain your dog turns 5 on April 16th and currently weighs 51.7 pounds.

*** If you are guilty of most or all of these behaviors, I adore you. So does your dog–but you knew that.

Dogs make us better people

As a journalist, I often interview people with dogs, retirees whose pets have become more than companions. They’ve helped them forge friendships and find meaning as they don vests and visit hospitals as certified therapy teams. Their dogs provide comfort to children who struggle to read and individuals with Alzheimer’s disease.

We teach our dogs how to sit pretty and potty in the yard, but they offer us more important lessons. As I mention in my memoir “Petals of Rain,” I believe the purpose and goal of all dogs is to teach us to aspire to unconditional love. As Mia tugs me down the streets in my neighborhood, she befriends every person we encounter. No judgment. Every human is worthy of her love. Tail wagging, eyes sparkling with optimism and joy, she is a keen advisor. Her pure heart challenges me to open mine.

When I find myself plagued by some trivial human concern, Mia helps me process the pain. She brings me back down to earth, back to green blades of grass and crape myrtle trees bursting with flowers. I am reminded to cherish these things. To be glad for this very moment in which the sun shines and we have one another to inspire, to mutually love and comfort — one helicopter dog mom and former shelter dog.