Hudson Shuster, posing for the camera

BEING A "DOGGIE MOMMY"

- Suzy Shuster, Contributing Writer

My mornings begin like any other Mother in America. I haul myself out of bed, blindly make my way to my awaiting pot of coffee, and then, I quietly give my three year old Hudson a kiss to wake him up. It's my favorite time of the day; he is still in a dream-like state of sleep, and as he awakes, he stretches his arms and legs, and blinkily gazes up at me through his long blond eyelashes. He yawns lazily and gives me a kiss. This is our daily routine, and each time we wind our way through this familiar routine, I think I could never love this creature more?

Hudson is the love of my life, and he's my dog.

Now, worry not, my husband knows I love him, but let's just say that if there's a life raft that can fit only a man or a dog, well, Rich better start doggy-paddling.

We rescued Hudson when he was barely six months old. There he was, staring back at me from a page on Petfinder.com. I had grown up with dogs: Winnie the Shih Tzu, Max the Golden Retriever, Theodore the Golden Retriever, as well as horses, and was one of those shy and sensitive kids who found a safer, more comfortable place in the world with animals, one that never seemed to go away even years after that shyness was outgrown. The day I found my boy, I saw the saddest golden brown eyes staring back at me and knew right then and there that I needed to take this boy home to love forever.

Since that day three and a half years ago, we have been inseparable, to the point of absurdity. We're way beyond the typical hikes and runs and twilight walks. I take this guy everywhere. He comes to outdoor cafes, shopping; he even knows where the cookie box is at the Beverly Hills outpost of Barneys, (second floor by Chelsea Passage if you're interested). He even came with me to test drive new cars, as he is very particular of back seat comfort.  He chose the Mercury Mariner HYBRID.

Two years ago, Hudson and I went through Therapy Dog Training and we now spend every Monday visiting the Fourth Floor of Children's Hospital here in Los Angeles, where kids are suffering from cancers of all kinds. These kids haven't and won't leave the hospital for days, weeks, months on end, and just the presence of a dog in their rooms and on their beds is enough to bring a smile to even the saddest face. Hudson seems to know somehow to whom he needs to be most gentle and to whom he should offer his paw, and when I watch him at work, I couldn't imagine being a prouder mother.

Just as I am insane about taking Hudson with me everywhere, I'm even more intense about what I feed him. For me, there is some kind of crazy disconnect between people who obsess over organic raisin bran and free-range, hormone-free chicken and the horrendous bags of over-processed dog food given to pets. Hudson is my child, and I would only serve him food with ingredients that could make it to my dinner table. He's the rare dog who is a finicky eater, and I have to ply him with secret treats within his dinners of Wellness Formula and cans of Merricks's Turducken (Turkey, Duck, & Chicken) and Cowboy Cookout (his favorite) with chunks of steak mixed in with sweet potatoes, peas, and brown rice. Add to that Swiss cheese or an organic chicken breast and we are in business. Both brands are amongst the cleanest and healthiest dog foods on the market.

I worry about him every minute I'm not with him, wonder if he is happy, feel agony if he is in pain, anger if anyone is mean to him. I teach him to behave with beautiful manners, and shower affection on him to raise his self-esteem. I scold him when he misbehaves, and I reward him in kind when he is wonderful. Isn't that what all mothers do?

I hear from people all the time, "wait 'til you have kids, you'll see. A dog becomes a dog after all," but I can assure you that will not be the case for my boy and me. After all, a mother always has a special bond with her first born.