Six weeks ago, Qira had seven puppies.
And if you’ve ever spent five minutes on the internet, you already know what comes next: apparently I’m the world’s worst dog owner.
When I posted the puppies on Nextdoor, I got absolutely roasted. People called me a backyard breeder. Said I was trying to make money instead of getting a job. Said I was irresponsible for rehoming the puppies before eight weeks. The comments got so bad that my post was eventually removed for being considered harmful.
The thing is, strangers only saw one tiny piece of the story.
What they didn’t see was Qira.
Qira was only four months old when I adopted her. I’d never raised a puppy before. When it came time to get her spayed, I followed my vet’s recommendation and waited until after her first heat cycle.
Then I went to Vegas, because my mom was in the hospital.
While I was in Vegas, Qira and Garrus were supposed to be kept separated. My roommate was responsible for watching them and didn’t think it was necessary to use a dog diaper or take the extra precautions I had asked for. Hector wasn’t home—he was at work—and I was hundreds of miles away.
By the time I got back, the damage was already done.
Seven puppies later, here we are.
What hurt most about the comments was the assumption that this was planned.
Trust me, if I wanted puppies, I would’ve picked a time when I wasn’t pregnant, preparing for a move, working, going to school, and generally trying not to lose my mind.
This wasn’t some breeding project.
This was an accident.
And honestly? The hardest part wasn’t even the pregnancy. It was watching Qira become a mom.
Because she didn’t want to be one.
I know that sounds harsh, but it’s the truth.
From the beginning, she seemed miserable. She hated feeding the puppies. She avoided them whenever she could. There were multiple times where we had to intervene because she was being rough with them. She stopped eating properly. She barely drank water. She became so skinny that it scared me.
The best way I can describe it is that she seemed depressed.
Every day felt like a balancing act between making sure the puppies were okay and making sure Qira was okay.
So when people online kept screaming, “The puppies need their mom!”
I wanted to scream back, “Their mom doesn’t want them.”
That sounds awful to say out loud, but anyone who watched what was happening in my house would understand.
We started weaning the puppies earlier because it became clear that keeping them dependent on Qira wasn’t helping anyone—especially Qira.
And despite what the internet thought, I wasn’t trying to get rid of them because they were inconvenient.
I was trying to find them good homes.
And I did.
Almost every single puppy found a family.
People who were excited about them. People who wanted them. People who could give them the attention and love they deserve.
That’s all I wanted from the beginning.
But now there’s another decision sitting on my chest.
Qira.
Between moving to Vegas, having a baby in September, figuring out where Hector and I will be living, and trying to build a stable future, I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep her.
Just typing that makes me cry.
Because I love that dog.
She’s my first baby, she isn’t even one yet and I already failed her.
But sometimes loving an animal means being honest about whether you’re the best person to care for them.
And that’s a question I’ve been struggling with every day.
Maybe that’s why the Nextdoor comments got under my skin so much.
I’m pregnant.
Every criticism feels bigger right now.
When people called me irresponsible, part of me didn’t just hear “bad dog owner.”
I heard, “You’re going to be a bad mom.”
I know those aren’t the same thing.
But anxiety isn’t exactly famous for being reasonable.
The truth is, I’ve spent months worrying about these animals. Crying over impossible decisions. Losing sleep. Trying to figure out what was best for everyone involved.
That doesn’t sound like someone who doesn’t care.
It sounds like someone who’s terrified of getting it wrong because getting it right matters so much.
Maybe that’s what parenting is.
Not always knowing the perfect answer.
Not always making everyone happy.
Just loving someone enough to carry the weight of difficult decisions.
The internet can think whatever it wants.
At the end of the day, I know every choice I’ve made came from trying to do right by the animals and people I love.
And right now, that’s enough.
