Dogs, Cats, and the Love They Teach Us

I was scrolling through TikTok the other day and saw this amazing bit of parenting advice I just had to share. Naturally, I didn’t save it—because why would I do something logical like that?—and now I can’t find it. So here goes my best retelling, from memory and heart.

As many of you know, I’ve been struggling—just as a human in general, but more specifically as a mom. (Shoutout to all the moms out there hanging on by a thread and a half-used Starbucks napkin.)

This child/adolescent therapist in the video said she didn’t learn her most powerful parenting wisdom in school, or in her practice, or even from her colleagues. She learned it from… her dog. 🐕‍🦺

You see, when you walk through the door, your dog doesn’t play it cool. No, your dog LOSES IT. Full-blown, happy-tail, you’re-the-best-thing-on-earth energy. They missed you—desperately—even if it’s only been seven minutes. They treat every entrance like a rock star just walked in.

Now here’s the heart of it: when your child walks into a room, treat them the same way.

Look up. Smile. Let them know, without a doubt, that they’re the most incredible thing you’ve ever laid eyes on. Shower them with love, belief, affection. Because when they feel seen and valued, they won’t cling so tightly to the things they’re unsure of. Your love becomes their mirror, reflecting back their worth, confidence, and kindness.

Because here’s the kicker: they don’t stay puppies forever.

Eventually… they turn into cats. 🐈

Teenagers. You know what I mean. Aloof, private, moody, occasionally affectionate—but only on their terms. And if you don’t love on them like a dog when they’re little, it’s going to be weird when you try it once they’re cats. Dogs freak cats out. Don’t wait too long.

A Little Reflection:

In our house, we love hard. So many hugs. So many I love yous. It might even be overkill—but we do it because we didn’t get enough of it growing up. My husband and I are on a mission to break cycles, to rewrite what family looks and feels like.

Looking back, I think this was one of the major disconnects between my mom and me. She didn’t hug me. She didn’t protect me. I honestly don’t remember her saying “I love you” when I was a kid. Later in life, she said it—tearfully—and I believe she meant it. She hugs me now. She’s changed in many ways.

But when it finally happened—when she hugged me and said those words—I was already an adult. I was the cat being hugged by a dog. It felt off. Not unwelcome, just… unnatural. Like I’d missed the window when it would’ve felt normal.

My dad was a different story. He was tough and sometimes frightening, but I never doubted he loved me. He said it often. He hugged me, protected me, showed up for me. Even when he was harsh—and trust me, he could be—there was love woven into it. Messy, imperfect love, but real nonetheless. I gave him grace for his flaws because I knew his love was present.

But my mom… she was a kid who had a kid. She wasn’t ready. She was self-focused, immature, and when life got hard, she unraveled—and took us with her. I was the oldest, so I remember more than my sisters do. I truly believe she needed help, but therapy wasn’t something people did in the ’80s. She still doesn’t believe in it, to be honest.

She didn’t feel like a mom. She felt like a high school mean girl who lived in my house. She used my dad as her muscle when she wanted to get her way. She stirred division between me and my sister. She even tried to squeeze into my clothes. It was less mother-daughter and more frenemy-rivalry.

I know this all sounds harsh—but it’s my truth. And it makes sense why it felt strange to suddenly be mothered in my twenties. You can’t reverse-engineer connection. It’s built slowly, intentionally, and over time.

Today, things are mostly okay between us. Time, age, and motherhood have softened the edges. Becoming a mom changed everything for me. I knew I’d mess up—because who doesn’t?—but I made a promise to apologize when I’m wrong, to love loudly and often, and to put us first.

Forgiveness isn’t always easy, but it’s necessary—for them and for me. I’ve learned to move forward with boundaries in place and grace in hand. I see now that my mom had her own pain she never healed. That’s not an excuse—but it is context.

We are shaped by our environments. But we’re not trapped by them.

We can choose differently. We must choose differently.

And every time my kid walks into a room, I plan to wag my metaphorical tail and let them know just how loved they really are.

SK- ❣

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