When the Heat Fades: Nesting Rituals of the Modern House Hound

A domestic wildlife documentary narrated by someone who did not sign up for this.

Hazel is on the final stretch of being in heat, which in dog terms means we have entered the psychological thriller phase.

The bleeding has mostly stopped.

The drama, however, has not.

Instead, she has transitioned gracefully into False Pregnancy: The Director’s Cut.

She is now:

Hoarding food like we’re entering a post-apocalyptic kibble shortage.

Building nests out of blankets, laundry, and what I suspect used to be my dignity.

Carefully relocating her plush toys into her “nursery” with the seriousness of a midwife in Victorian England.

Yesterday I found her gently arranging a squeaky dinosaur inside a blanket fortress behind the couch.

She looked at me like I had just walked into the delivery room uninvited.

The maternal instinct is strong.

The logic is… optional.

Meanwhile.

Enter Eazy.

Eazy, who is currently on a diet because apparently “40 kilos of majestic floor shark” is not a medical classification.

Eazy has decided that Hazel’s nesting operation is, in fact, an Easter egg hunt.

Every time Hazel tucks a toy or snack into her carefully curated maternity ward,

Eazy waits approximately 11 seconds and then:

Sniff.

Steal.

Trots off proudly.

It’s like watching a hormonal soap opera collide with a children’s spring festival.

Hazel: “These are my babies.”

Eazy: “These are carbohydrates.”

The tension in this house could power a small European country.

At one point Hazel tried to hide a chew treat under her blanket pile.

Eazy sniffed it out with the intensity of a narcotics dog at Schiphol and strutted away like she’d just cracked a cartel operation.

Hazel looked betrayed. Deeply betrayed.

Like she had trusted the wrong midwife.

And me?

I am just here laundering blankets and whispering, “You are not pregnant. You are just… enthusiastic.”

No one listens.

The washing machine has filed for emotional leave.

The toy basket is empty.

The couch is now a maternity ward.

And we are only days away from Hazel deciding one specific stuffed toy is the chosen child that must be protected at all costs.

Pray for us.

Nature is beautiful.

Nature is powerful.

Nature is currently building a nursery out of my fitted sheets while a dieting Boxweiler cosplays the Easter Bunny.

National Geographic, call me. I have footage!