Listen, I understand. You love the rabid coyote that lives in your backyard, you’ve fed him since he was a pup, you don’t even mind that he’s rabid. Well, I’ve had enough. It’s time for you to face facts: he’s not a part of your family. Stop trying to pretend that your coyote is somehow equivalent to my human baby.

Children are a lot of work and it’s insulting to mothers everywhere when you call the rabid coyote who lives in your backyard your “fur-baby.” Yes, rabid coyotes take a lot of work, too—you have to run from them, and hide your cats from them—but nowhere near the amount of work it takes to raise a child. I had to child-proof my entire home in order to protect my son. Also, I had to coyote-proof my entire home in order to protect my son. These are things you don’t even have to consider while raising a rabid coyote in your backyard.

Before all of you “coyote moms” start calling me a hater, you should know that I’m the proud owner of a rabid coyote, too. And that’s exactly what I am: an owner, NOT a mom. It does a disservice to the rabid coyote to treat it like a human. It doesn’t want my maternal affection or little outfits; it wants to skulk around during the day and spew mouth foam on my back porch. Watching my son tear into his birthday presents is not comparable to watching my coyote tear into a pigeon. It just isn’t.

When you have a child, you’ll understand.

“But wait,” you say, wringing your childless hands, “In our overpopulated world, having a rabid coyote instead of a child is the responsible choice.” That may be true, but it’s not the whole truth. Sure, having a child takes a toll on the environment, but bringing life into this world is a God-given right: a blessing. Allowing an apex predator with a deadly communicable disease to stalk your property without calling animal control? Well, that’s what you’d call a hobby. Sorry, ladies, but it’s true.

Bottom line: I love my rabid coyote, but not as much as I love my son. It’s just the facts: Coyotes and humans are not equal. While I have room in my heart for both, at the end of the day, one of them terrorizes the neighborhood and poops in the swimming pool, while the other is just a rabid coyote.

Ha ha! That’s just a lil’ joke for all the real moms out there.