Celebrate the decline in "The Domestic Supply of Infants" with a Granddog

Welcome to MyGranddogger.

We are a somewhat politically incorrect, deeply affectionate, unapologetically feral little corner of the internet for imperfect people who love their granddoggers like family—because, surprise, they are family. But they are so much more.

We survived the Cold War, trickle-down economics, Satanic Panic, dial-up internet, Y2K, low-rise jeans, MLM parties in somebody’s living room, 8-inch-tall bangs shellacked into a weather-resistant helmet with enough Aqua Net to qualify as a municipal fire hazard, gender reveals involving explosives, and being told we could “have it all” as long as we did it quietly, gratefully, and in heels.

Then came COVID, sourdough starter, the Great Toilet Paper Panic, remote work meetings with no pants, RFK Jr, and two Donald Trump presidencies—because apparently America enjoys a sequel nobody asked for.

We have watched basic human rights get fought over like its a Waffle House on a Friday night. We have seen cruelty rebranded as “just follow the law and there would be no problem.” We have seen grown adults become personally offended by pronouns, library books, drag queens, women making decisions about their own bodies, and dogs wearing bandanas.

And yet, here we are.

Still standing. Still sarcastic. Still probably carrying dog treats in a purse pocket beside a receipt from 2017 and one emergency ibuprofen that has been through three different purses. I don't want even want to know what else is in there.

Somewhere between surviving the nonsense and teaching ourselves how to just stop and breathe again, 

we had a moment of clarity:

We can, in fact, do the thing they (our parents, or our ex, or that negative coworker from eight years ago) told us we could not do.

Start over. Leave the bad marriage. Apply for the job. Go back to school. Build the business. Say no. Say hell no. Dye your hair. Change your mind. Learn the thing from Youtube videos at 1AM when you can't sleep. Protect your peace. Buy the damn mug. 

(Do NOT cut your own bangs though.)

DO spoil the Granddogger. 

We just needed the inspiration or courage or self esteem or see someone else do it.

In my case, it all started when I had a friend who was getting her nursing degree, and I thought to myself, if she can do it. I can at least get my Associate's. My ex-husband was less than supportive. 

Notice I said ex.

I am now halfway through my MBA. All of this has taken fifteen years, but I am not in a competition. 

I created MyGranddogger at the beginning of what I did not realize would be a literal year long headache followed by numerous other insane health issues that left me temporarily disabled and turned my already dark sense of humor to  vantablack. I had no idea what I was doing and probably still don't. But, I am not letting that stop me.

I am an exhausted bleeding knuckles middle aged liberal Texas woman who has organized (to some degree) and consolidated my fifty years of religious trauma, relationship trauma, disability experiences, my granddog's grief, my AI learning journey, my AuDHD, sarcastic wit, and human and reproductive-rights rage into a terrier-centric ecommerce rebellion. I have learned AI very badly at my own very slow pace through this project and will proudly continue to utilize AI to carry out my objectives. Many mistakes have been made along this long fought journey and I could not be prouder. I will likely make many more as I continue to work on this project, and I invite you to join me as I fearlessly make them. 

Come fearlessly make some with me.

If your forced exorcism failed, your therapist has a therapist 

because of your trauma dumping, 

your kids are annoyed that you actually managed to raise them to adulthood with no fatalities no matter how hard they tried and now have negative opinions about your boundaries, or your ex is still confused about why repeatedly treating monogamy like a suggestion had consequences, then MyGranddogger is likely for you. 

Just hear me out.

We make personalized goods for the dog-obsessed, the slightly inappropriate, the unapologetically imperfect, the ones that are done making themselves smaller for others comfort, and the people who know that kindness is not weakness, compassion is not radical, and the dog is absolutely allowed on the furniture.

 You actually got that sofa FOR her. 

You celebrate that little decline in the domestic infant supply because it means that more women have choices that our previous generations did not have and you support the 

rise of the GRANDDOGGER. 

Because this is about so much more than just the dogs.

Granddogger required? Nope.

A sense of humor, a soft spot for dogs, and a low tolerance for bullshit? 

You’ll fit right in.

Currently we have a Shopify store- Myshopify.mygranddogger.com - but one of these days when I figure this out better, we will find a better platform with a better CEO. If anyone wants to help with that, drop me a line at Mimi@MyGranddogger.com

We also have the REALLY outspoken Democrat Donkey line. 

There is absolutely no doubt where we stand politically. 

In this day and age, you have to take a stand. 

Call them out whenever you can. 

Make them uncomfortable.

At MyGranddogger.com, we humorously celebrate being a Grandpawrent and embrace a granddogger lifestyle and what it represents: 

the decline in the domestic supply of infants and what that means for current and future generations of young women.

 Our mission is to inspire Grandpawrents to cherish every moment they have with their Granddoggers. 

We also love sharing pet adoption stories, inspirational or humorous stories of personal growth in general, and providing helpful tips for pet owners. You never know what will touch someone's life so 

don't be afraid to share your journey with us.

 And, remember, whenever possible, #AdoptDontShop!

Our story begins where someone else’s story ends. My youngest human child, Lu Lu, had just embarked on her career journey by landing her very first job at a local pet store in the suburbs. We had carefully chosen this position for her, as it aligned perfectly with her animal-loving soul. Little did we know, this job would introduce her to experiences I could never have imagined and bring our delightful granddog, The Tater Tot, into our lives.

Wendy, Tater’s mom, worked alongside Lu, and Tater accompanied her to work every day, rarely leaving Wendy’s side. Lu quickly fell in love with Tater and often talked about her. Sadly, Wendy lost her second battle with breast cancer far too soon. Lu wanted to adopt Tater immediately, but at that time, our home was already full with several cats and my three ancient dogs. Tater was rehomed, and I thought that was the end of our story.

A few months later, Lu approached me with a concern: Tater wasn’t thriving in her new home because she didn’t get along with a male member of the household. Knowing I could empathize as a divorced single mom, she shared her feelings, and I understood her plight.

Tater was living with us in just days, and we absolutely adore her. At only eight pounds, she is completely spoiled and runs the household. Tater does not enjoy being alone with just Mimi and will howl until one of the kids returns home, the entire time! With her many quirks, we genuinely do not mind. Now at thirteen years old, Tater has been through a lot, and as any responsible pet owner knows, she deserves to do whatever she wants in her granddog lifestyle. It’s her world, and she graciously allows us to live in it! Many tips for pet owners could be derived from our experiences, especially when it comes to pet adoption stories like ours.

My son has been talking about getting his own dog for the last couple of years. Whenever he would come home to visit, my ancient dog Ryder would attach himself to Jules until he left. Ryder was maybe a 17-pound chiweenie of unknown origin that we adopted when he was about 4 years old according to our vet. As young men do, Jules recently got a girlfriend who had her own dog, Roxy. Roxy was an older girl with health issues and would accompany her mom to my son’s downtown condo whenever she spent the night. This really reinforced to Jules that he wanted his own dog. During my son’s last visit, he expressed his desire to get a dog again. They found a listing for adorable rescue dogs named after Harry Potter characters, and the rest is history. Sirius, a small coal black version of Ryder, quickly stole my son’s heart. We still haven’t had a DNA test done, but it’s clear there’s some deer head chihuahua in this charming little creature. Unfortunately, shortly after the pet adoption story of Young Mr. Black, Roxy was diagnosed with terminal cancer. However, he did get to spend time with her during her last couple of weeks. I have yet to meet my youngest granddog, but I took great pleasure in sending him a ball that he doesn’t quite understand how to play with yet. I look forward to tormenting my son with tips for pet owners when it comes to managing an endless supply of things his dog doesn’t need.