My Life with a Pomsky (a.k.a. My Son’s Spirit Animal)

Weekdays in my house consist of entertaining a four-year-old who swears he’s older than he is, being followed by a Pomsky who never leaves my side, and occasionally interrupted by a Chavacon who barks at the sound of a falling leaf.

Now, the Chavacon naps when all is calm. The toddler and Pomsky, however, seem to thrive on noise and attention. Between the redirections, the constant “stop” or “hey, get out of there,” and the never-ending sounds of play, it’s overstimulating and exhausting—but also sprinkled with moments of joy and laughter.

Still, I crave those rare moments of peace—the kind where silence doesn’t just last five minutes. Don’t get me wrong, I love my son dearly. But the dogs? They have me questioning if I’m truly cut out for this dog parent life. The Pomsky keeps marking his territory and recently decided to snack on my couch. We’ve tried training, toys for aggressive chewers, affection—everything. Yet somehow, he always finds new ways to test my patience.

As I write this, I’m finally having a free moment. I’m sitting on the new couch (RIP to the last one), surrounded by my plants, feeling tired but grateful. My son is on FaceTime with my dad—it’s been a two-hour “conversation” filled with laughter, movie commentary, and their usual back-and-forth banter. Only brief snack requests have pulled me away.

The dogs are finally calm, busy with their treat ball or napping on their cot. So even though today had its share of chaos, I’m thankful for this sliver of quiet—to write, reflect, and just breathe.

Sundays are for resets. So even if peace only lasts a few moments, find your center. Breathe deeply. Reflect. And be grateful for the little things.