Life with Indie Dogs and a Baby: Love, Loss, and Learning to Coexist

This isn’t a guide or a set of rules — just our lived experience of navigating new motherhood alongside rescued dogs, slowly and imperfectly.

Before I became a mother, I already was one — just in a different way.

For seven years after my marriage, my dogs were my only children. We rescued three indie dogs over time, and they weren’t just pets — they were the center of most of our decisions. Our routines, our friendships, even our weekends quietly revolved around them.
When my husband got the opportunity to move to Dubai, the first question we tried to answer wasn’t about work or logistics — it was whether we could take our dogs with us. Bringing three indie dogs across countries wasn’t simple, but it felt non-negotiable. They were family, and family came along.

Fast forward to seven years – our baby arrived.
And everything shifted.
A home that held both joy and loss.
Within a month of our baby joining us, we lost one of our dogs.
Grief and new motherhood overlapped in ways I hadn’t anticipated. There wasn’t space to process one fully before the other demanded attention. Our home felt fuller and emptier at the same time.
Today, we live with two indie dogs — both rescues, both deeply loved, both with very clear personalities and boundaries. They aren’t the endlessly tolerant, cuddly dogs we often see online — and that’s okay. Every dog is different, and ours have very clear personalities and boundaries.

The early months: quiet presence and watchfulness
Our younger female dog — the most affectionate of the three — surprised me in the early months after the baby arrived.
For the first few months, she stayed close. Not intrusive, not excitable — just present. She would quietly observe feeds, nap nearby, and follow us from room to room. There was a sense of protectiveness but also caution.
I didn’t push interaction. I didn’t expect bonding. I simply let things unfold.
At the same time, my availability changed dramatically. The baby was tiny. I was recovering. During my maternity leave, I even spent a month at my hometown for additional support. My husband and our house help were with the dogs, so they were cared for — but the emotional rhythm of our home had shifted.
That mattered.

When dynamics evolved
As months passed, our female dog’s behavior changed slightly. Not in a dramatic or alarming way — more like a quiet withdrawal at times.
Maybe this was jealousy, but also an adjustment. Less uninterrupted time. Fewer long cuddles. Attention divided in a way it never had been before.
Instead of correcting or forcing change, we chose to slow down and observe.

Choosing coexistence over forced bonding
One decision we’ve been intentional about is this: We don’t force our dogs to interact with the baby.
And we don’t encourage the baby to touch the dogs.
There’s no expectation of instant friendship, no posing for photos, no “they’ll get used to it” mindset. What we aim for instead is calm coexistence.
Our dogs have their own beds, which are respected spaces. The baby doesn’t go there. We don’t rely heavily on crates or gates — not because they aren’t useful, but because supervision, space, and routine work better for our household right now.

What coexistence looks like in everyday life
In practice, coexistence shows up in small, intentional moments.
Most evenings, I sit outside in the garden with the baby while the dogs are around. Sometimes the baby is in a carrier, and I’ll play gentle chase games with the dogs — they get their exercise, and the baby finds it endlessly entertaining.
We often involve food in neutral, positive ways. If I’m offering the dogs treats, I might do so while holding the baby, so everyone stays calm and regulated. During meals — especially since we follow baby-led weaning — food often drops, and the dogs happily clean up under supervision.
At times, the baby will offer his hand after eating yogurt or fruit, and the dogs will lick it briefly. These moments are always supervised, short, and followed by cleaning — and they’ve helped keep interactions neutral rather than tense.
What I watch for constantly is body language — theirs and the baby’s. If either seems overstimulated, we step back.

Bedrooms, boundaries, and changing rituals
Our dogs are allowed on the bed, but never unsupervised with the baby.
They have their own beds in our room, which they mostly stick to. Occasionally, they hop onto ours — something that used to be a Saturday-morning ritual before the baby arrived. We’d sleep in, invite the dogs up, cuddle for a while, and then start the day slowly.
That ritual looks different now. Sometimes it doesn’t happen at all. But on some Saturdays, when the timing feels right, we still make space for it — adjusting rather than erasing what mattered before.

I won’t pretend I get this right every day. Between work and parenting, weekdays are especially hard. But I try to find small pockets of time — sitting with them at night while the baby sleeps or making space for longer walks on weekends. It’s not the same as before, but it’s still ours.

Loving everyone, differently
I won’t pretend this season has been easy.
I miss the uninterrupted time I used to have with my dogs. I miss the simplicity of loving them without competing needs. And I’m still learning how to show up for everyone — imperfectly, but with intention.
This phase isn’t about perfect harmony or picture-perfect moments.
It’s about safety, respect, and allowing relationships to unfold at their own pace.

Our home may not look like the videos we scroll past — but it’s honest, calm, and rooted in care. And for us, that’s enough.
If there’s one thing this season has taught me, it’s that coexistence doesn’t have to look like closeness — it just has to feel safe and respectful.

Every family, every baby, and every dog is different. This is simply our lived experience. If you’re a parent navigating life with a baby and dogs — especially rescues — and feeling unsure or guilty, I hope this reminds you that slow, calm, and imperfect is still enough.