No Bones About It: Mabel - The Dog I Didn’t Know I Needed
Mabel is the dog I didn’t know I needed. She’s quirky, usually down for most things, fiercely protective, and can twirl with the best of them.
I honestly didn’t think I’d ever have three dogs. Two felt like plenty - especially with the fur tumbleweeds that already rolled through the house. But if I’m being real, if I had a huge home and a big yard, I’d probably have a whole pack by now.
A little backstory: I had Otis and Tito. Tito was my senior rescue, and he had his own personality which I will share in a future post. But he passed away during the first year of COVID. Losing him was devastating. I didn’t want Otis to be alone, and, truthfully, I didn’t want to be alone either. That’s when we met Etsy - a senior rescue listed as a hospice foster. I couldn’t leave her behind.
We brought her home, knowing our time would be short. She stayed with us for two beautiful months before she crossed the rainbow bridge. Losing two dogs in four months shattered me. The grief was heavy, and the house felt too quiet. I knew I needed new energy - something to love, to care for, to make me laugh again. That’s when Naomi came home.
Finding Mabel
Naomi was exactly what I needed: a little chaos, a lot of love, and a reminder that joy still existed in the middle of loss. Watching her come into her own was healing. Then one day, I heard that her half-sibling was available for adoption - and something in me just knew.
That’s how Mabel came into our lives.
She was seven months old, skittish and scared, with terrible separation anxiety. Her foster mom described her as “a little funny,” but when I met her, all I saw was fear. She trembled in my arms the whole ride home.
At that time, I had just started dating my partner. And because Mabel couldn’t be left alone, not even for a few minutes - she came with us on our early dates. He held her while I ran to the restroom and found restaurants with dog-friendly patios. Looking back, it says a lot that he stayed through all of that.
The Hard Work (and the Funny Parts)
Those first months with Mabel were rough. She didn’t understand crates or potty training. If I left the room, she’d panic. When I had to leave the house, she’d go potty in her crate and then get so upset that she’d walk through it. I gave her more baths in those months than I could’ve imagined.
I finally found a trainer who specialized in dogs with separation anxiety. Together, we worked through her fears step by step. Slowly, things began to shift. One day, I realized I could leave her home without coming back to chaos - and that was huge.
Over the months that followed, Mabel’s real personality began to shine through. She twirled with joy when she saw you. She hid under tables when she was scared. She barked like she was ten times her size whenever she felt protective.
She also inspired one of my more ridiculous songs - because when you live with dogs, sometimes you just have to laugh through the mess. Whenever she had an accident, I’d sing:
🎵 Mabel, Mabel, can be unstable, the little dog who shits under the table, if she were able - and that ain’t no fable.* 🎵
Not exactly Grammy material, but it helped turn frustration into something softer, something funny.
My Little Chaos Gremlin
Training Mabel has been… let’s call it optional. She’s probably the least trained of all my dogs, but honestly, that feels right. It’s a bit like raising kids - your first one gets all the structure, the second gets some flexibility, and by the third, you’re like, “Eh, they’ll figure it out.” The other dogs helped guide her, and I learned to let go of perfection.
Mabel represents the “chaos” side of my brand - the quirky, unpredictable energy that keeps things real. When I started designing the Chaos Gremlins collection, I thought of Naomi’s grumbles and her funny little teeth… but Mabel was the true muse. She’s the embodiment of that beautiful, messy energy that makes life interesting.
And oh, does she live up to the title. Mabel has a talent for finding fun where she shouldn’t - stealing socks, snatching whatever looks interesting from the laundry basket, and proudly parading around with her “treasures.” She has a thing for tissues too; if there’s one within reach, she’ll turn it into a confetti explosion across the house before you can blink.
She also hates wearing outfits or costumes. If you’ve ever seen our Halloween or holiday photos, she’s the one with the unmistakable “please send help” face. I love it - she, not so much. But even in her protest, she’s ridiculously cute.
The Heart of the Chaos
She’s my reminder that not everything has to be polished or planned to be wonderful. Sometimes, it’s the untrained, unfiltered parts that make life richer.
What I love most about Mabel is her balance of contradiction. She can look at you with so much intensity and wisdom that it feels like she knows things. Other times, she just looks utterly bewildered - like she’s trying to remember what planet she’s on.
But she is fiercely loyal. For a 13-pound dog, she believes she’s a wolf. If she senses something off, she’s the first to stand between us and whatever it is. She may be small, but her heart is enormous.
I can’t imagine my life without her.
She rounds out the little constellation of personalities in our home - Otis, my heart; Naomi, my soul; and Mabel, my chaos. Together, they mirror all the parts of me: the steady, the anxious, the curious, and the wild.
It’s funny how life works that way. You don’t plan it. You just open your heart, and somehow the right souls find their way in.
Mabel may not have been the dog I set out to find, but she’s exactly the one I needed.
What Mabel Has Taught Me
Mabel has taught me that love doesn’t have to look tidy to be true. She’s shown me that healing can be loud, messy, and full of shredded tissues - and that joy sometimes hides in the most chaotic corners of life.
Here are a few things this little chaos gremlin has reminded me of:
Patience takes practice. Especially when the lesson involves socks disappearing one by one.
Laughter can be a form of grace. Sometimes you just have to laugh while cleaning up a snowstorm of tissues.
Perfection isn’t the goal. The untrained, unpredictable moments are often where the love lives.
Joy can be loud and messy. Healing doesn’t always come in calm, polished packages.
Chaos can still be beautiful. You just have to lean into it with an open heart (and maybe a lint roller).
Mabel is my mirror in so many ways - the part of me that feels everything all at once, that fidgets through uncertainty, that hides when things get overwhelming but still wants to be close. She reminds me that being “too much” can also mean being deeply alive.
Through her, I’ve learned to celebrate the imperfect - to find beauty in the silly, the stubborn, and the moments that don’t go as planned. She’s my daily reminder that the best kind of love doesn’t follow rules; it just shows up, wiggles, and twirls right into your heart.
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