I never thought I’d be the kind of grandma who’d lose her mind over a dog. But here I am—completely baffled and honestly, a little horr!fied.

My daughter, Emma, and her husband, Jake, just had their first baby, a beautiful little girl named Sophie. I was over the moon the day she was born, full of excitement to meet my first grandchild. I dreamed of cuddling that tiny, delicate bundle in my arms, whispering lullabies, and spoiling her rotten with love and attention.

But what I didn’t expect was to find myself in the middle of a tug-of-war over a giant, toothy dog.

See, Emma and Jake have this enormous Labrador mix named Brutus. And I’m not exaggerating when I say this dog is a beast. He’s easily as heavy as I am, which is saying something for a woman like me who’s always been on the petite side.

When the baby was born, I had one clear, simple request: keep Brutus away from Sophie. I didn’t say it to be mean. I wasn’t trying to be the “overbearing mother.” I just thought it was common sense.

Newborns are fragile. Their immune systems are delicate. Dogs, especially big ones, can accidentally hurt a baby — even without meaning to. And don’t get me started on the hygiene part. Dogs track in dirt, bacteria, and who knows what else on their paws and fur. It just didn’t seem right.

So I told Emma and Jake exactly that. "If I see that dog anywhere near Sophie," I warned, "I won’t stand for it."

I thought they’d understand. I thought they’d respect the concerns of a grandma who had raised kids and knew a thing or two about babies.

But I was wrong.

Within days of Sophie coming home, I started getting pictures. And these weren’t just normal photos of a dog and a baby in the same room.

No. These were pictures of Sophie — my beautiful, fragile granddaughter — asleep, curled up right next to Brutus. Sometimes the dog’s huge head was resting on the baby’s crib. Sometimes they were sprawled out on the floor, the dog’s massive paws stretched inches from Sophie’s tiny hands.

I stared at those pictures like they were some kind of cruel joke.

How could they be so careless?

I texted Emma right away. “Are you serious? That dog is huge! What if he accidentally rolls over on her or scratches her?”

Her response was calm, even dismissive. “Mom, Brutus is part of our family. He’s gentle with Sophie. We trust him.”

Trust him? Trust a giant dog to be gentle with a newborn?

I swallowed my panic and typed back, “It’s not just about trust. It’s about safety. And hygiene. You do realize babies put everything in their mouths, right? You can’t control what that dog has on his fur.”

Emma replied, “We clean him regularly. And honestly, Sophie loves him. She calms down when he’s around.”

That was the moment I felt a fire ignite in my chest. How could they be so reckless? Was this some kind of crazy new parenting trend I’d missed?

I thought about the risks — sudden infant death syndrome (SIDS), infections, allergic reactions, scratches, even worse. But Emma and Jake weren’t listening.

Over the next few days, things only got worse. Brutus was allowed in Sophie’s nursery. He followed them everywhere. Sometimes I saw videos of Sophie giggling as the dog licked her face. I cringed so hard I thought my teeth might fall out.

At family dinners, I brought it up gently, hoping for some sense. “Maybe the dog should stay outside for a while? Until Sophie’s a bit older?”

Jake just scoffed. “She’s fine. You’re overreacting.”

Emma nodded in agreement. “We’ve done our research. Some studies show that having pets around can actually strengthen babies’ immune systems.”

I wanted to believe them. I really did. But every instinct in my body screamed at me to protect Sophie.

The worst was when I was alone with Sophie. I begged Emma and Jake, “Please, keep the dog away from her when I’m here. Just for a little while.”

They promised. But last week, I caught Brutus curled up beside Sophie’s crib again. I could barely breathe.

I’m torn. Part of me wants to storm in, grab that dog, and send him to a shelter myself. Without asking. Is that too harsh? Maybe.

But I’m a grandmother. My job is to protect my grandchild.

I don’t want to alienate Emma and Jake. I want to support them as parents. But how can I do that when I see Sophie sleeping next to a giant animal with sharp teeth and dirty paws?

Sometimes I imagine the worst — the dog accidentally hurting Sophie in a moment of excitement or jealousy. Or Sophie getting sick from germs Brutus carries.

I try to rationalize. Emma says they’re careful. They clean the dog. They watch him constantly. But still.

I think about all the grandparents I know. None of them would allow this.

But is it really my place? Is it just old-fashioned fear? Or am I justified in feeling this way?

I’ve tried reading articles online — some say pets around babies help build immunity, others warn of risks. The opinions are so mixed, it just adds to my confusion.

What I do know is this: I love Sophie more than anything. I want her safe, happy, and healthy. And if that means standing up to my daughter and son-in-law, then I will.

Am I wrong for wanting to keep my granddaughter safe? Should I accept the dog as part of their new family, or fight to keep Sophie away from him?

I’m at my wit’s end. I need advice. I need someone to tell me I’m not crazy.

Because right now, I’m just a worried grandmother watching her little girl sleep dangerously close to a huge dog, wondering if I’m the bad guy in this story.