The Overbooked Life

Husky Glitter, Chewed Shoes, and a Whole Lot of Love

Some people collect hobbies. I collect husky hair. Between zoomies, dramatic howls, and a furniture casualty or two, living with huskies is equal parts chaos and comedy—and I’ve learned a lot along the way.

I know I’ll end up posting plenty about the kids, family, and work, but why not about the dogs themselves? After all, they’re as much a part of the daily chaos as anyone else. I like to joke that I thought I knew what I was getting into when we adopted a husky—one that brought love, laughs, and more hair than I ever imagined, plus the fun of me being the one taken for a walk. But then we adopted a second.

Because when you adopt one husky… you quickly realize they do best with a friend.

I learned quickly that if you only have one (at least for ours), he’ll find ways to entertain himself—usually at your expense. At first, I refused to crate him. I thought crating was cruel. Would you want to be stuffed into a box for 6+ hours? Neither would I, so why would I do that to a high-energy pup? I’d seen videos of huskies trying to break out of crates, and I wanted no part of that heartbreak.

Yes, they’re crate trained now—for emergencies—but they don’t live in crates. I work hard so they can have the good life they deserve. In fact, I even have a coffee mug that says: “I work this hard so my dog can have a better life.” It sits on my desk at work and always gets people talking.

So instead of crating, I did what any slightly sleep-deprived, over-committed, soft-hearted dog parent would do: I adopted him a friend. Yes, that meant double the fluff, double the zoomies, and double the howls, but it also meant my shoes survived. And honestly, don’t we all do better with a friend to “ruff house” with? Sure, we had to sacrifice a chair (RIP chair legs), but for the most part, keeping them gated in dog-proof areas has worked.

Now, with age, my older husky has mellowed—well, husky-style mellowed. He’ll still hop the baby gate, stare into the puppy cam, and roll all over my sofa with the defiance of a teenager sneaking out past curfew. Which explains why I’m usually covered in “husky glitter.”

I write a lot about the pressures of family, work, and bills, but these two boys bring joy and chaos in equal measure. They frustrate me. They make me laugh harder than I thought possible. And they remind me, daily, not to take life too seriously.

Of course, huskies don’t forgive easily. They have long memories and a flair for revenge. If I don’t share breakfast, brush the “wrong” spot, give the wrong number of treats, or fail to dry the grass before they step outside, they’ll make their displeasure known. My sneakers have paid the ultimate price more than once.

But for every chewed heel or stolen snack, there’s a moment that makes it worth it. On nights when work is heavy on my mind, my older husky will leap the gate, sneak upstairs, and curl up between my husband and me. Sometimes I’ll even surrender the bed and head to the sofa, where he’ll flop beside me, a 60-pound weighted blanket of fur and warmth. The smell of dog breath may not be ideal, but the comfort is unmatched.

At the end of the day, life with huskies is messy, chaotic, and unpredictable. But it’s also full of laughter, love, and more loyalty than I ever expected. They test my patience, destroy my shoes, and cover me in hair—but I wouldn’t trade them for the world. Because when the house is quiet and the stress of the day lingers, nothing heals quite like a husky pressed up against you, reminding you that joy can be found in the simplest, fluffiest of packages.

Until next time, keep the coffee strong and the chaos manageable.