Separation anxiety...

Separation anxiety…

Day 3: evening….(because the days have stretched into moment by moment around here…)

I return from work to find Ariel has…drum roll please…EATEN, yes, you heard me, EATEN the tray she lays on in her cage.  People… it’s freakin’ metal.  How the heck do you eat through metal?  That ain’t right. 
Crazy dog, because ”Ariel” no longer does her justice,  has also ripped up the rug I bought for her cage. When I say ripped up I mean literally it’s like someone took scissors to it and shred it in to tiny pieces.  I can’t fathom how she did this.  I am so distressed I forget to take a picture.  Her chew toys lay undisturbed.  I feel as if she is flipping me off.  Can a dog give you the finger?  We are in a show down for sure.  As I look over to see what mayhem Lilly has done, she just stares at me, and flips her head and walks away.  (she hates me…10 years, and she hates me!) She refuses to take part in this mischief; she won’t even look at me. I find myself feeling guilty for leaving her with this wild beast all day. I am cracking up-like in a crazy girl kinda way. This is not good.

It’s impossible to determine at this point what else she could possibly do damage to.  We have resorted to pig ears, bones, old towels, new towels, chew toys, you name it…whatever works we have tried.  We are desperate to try and keep this dog from chewing up anything else.  I have friends that are dropping by “chew resistant dog toys” and laughing as they leave me with this beast.  At work, I’m anxious as I think about what destruction is being caused in my home.  I feel as though I have a newborn baby again, I wake up every hour to make sure she is still lying at the foot of my bed. I’m sleep deprived, I’m bitter, and quite frankly I’m fearful of this metal eating, laundry loving beast.  How come you never get a dog that fold laundry? Why do they eat it?

Day 4: She hates me.

As I go to open the laundry room door after work, I realize that I can’t get in. I try and give a little push and it’s like, NOT budging.  I go out back to peek through the window and I see that this complete freak-of-nature has flipped her cage upside down, and wedged herself while still locked in her cage, up against the laundry room door!…SHE IS IN THE CAGE. IT IS LOCKED. What the heck??...she has also figured out ( & I still can’t figure this out?) how to get my ironing board cover (which is hanging up high on the back of the door) and done her favorite trick…ripped it to shreds. Awesome.  I’m like not getting it…why eat a starchy ironing board when I bought you those luscious pig ears? You chose a laptop cord over “pup-corn”, and how about those yummy bacon flavored bones I bought?  Not tasty enough for you…ohhhh, I get it… you want metal? Starch? Cotton? I can’t stand this beast. 

I’ve had it, and I don’t care what it cost, I pull out the big guns, and I call “the local dog whisperer”. She states that my man has picked an, “especially anxious dog…” (You think? Kill me now.) “She is most likely suffering from deep longing for companionship and severe separation anxiety...”  

Let me tell you who else is about to be suffering from severe separation anxiety!!  Is this a joke? Am I being captured on candid camera?

...the next words I hear are, “…$600, and the 2nd dog is only ½ price…” I can no longer feel my toes, and my hands are slightly numb…so I just drop the phone and find the bottle opener.  I haven’t figured out how I’m going to bust Houdini out of the laundry room yet, but I can’t worry about that.  I’m losing my mind.  I am so over this dog I can’t stand it!  But instead, I refrain from any words or long term emotional damage to my family and go to my happy place…but I search and search and can’t find it…still looking for it…nope.nothing…It’s gone.  There is no happy place with this beast living here. My peeps know I am near the edge they are saying calming words like, ”chocolate. Garlic bread. Homemade cinnamon rolls...” but sadly, this dog depression has taken all the joy out of those things.

 I live in doggie depression. It is lonely here people. How would you feel if you were raising a metal eating, laundry shredding, laptop cord chewing, separation anxiety suffering devil dog? 

You would feel sad. Which would build to bitter. And then finally exhaustion.
I’m in my own personal prison.
Today I am thankful for...separation anxiety.  Because I am certain that it is the reason I keep coming home every night. Otherwise, I would just run away…far, far away….

Keeping you thankful,

~penny

When a mid-life crisis looks like a dog, beg him to buy a sports car!

My man has wanted a lab for a long time.   a really, really, long time...A man’s dog.  A dog to take on long runs.  A dog that will play fetch.  A dog that will obey commands. But before you get the wrong idea, understand that it’s more like when I say I want to take a trip around the world.  We both know it’s just dreamy talk that goes nowhere, and we just enjoy the moment while we are in it and patronize each other with comments like, “oh, yeah, that would be great…maybe one day…goodnight…zzzzz…..”

Me, I have never wanted a dog. Not even once that I can remember.  I’m thinking it has something to do with the puncture wound I have in my foot from when I was in 3^rd grade riding my bike and a chow chased me down. hmmm, or maybe it’s from the other occasion when  another dog bit me on the chin  - yes, the chin-, when I was walking to a friend’s house.  I had to get stitches. It hurt. And yes, I have a scar. No bueno.

I’m a girl.  Stitches to the face, shut down any hope that I would ever want a dog. I have limits, ya know, and my face happens to be one of them.

In an ironic twist of fate, My life has been cursed with children that replay the constant plea of: “pleeeease mom, please can we get a dog!” 
I have been just as constant and steadfast with the reply, “NO!!...Have you seen the scar on my chin? okay, then...remember that, and remember its rude to even say the word "dog" around me!”...(these girls have no respect for my pain!)

Penny + dogs= pain. I get it. apparently the kinfolk I'm hanging with in this life do NOT!

Me and my man have maintained great unity over this issue.  We got snookered into a Chihuahua that has cost us a fortune in carpet and mental health bills.  We harbor deep resentment towards my sister over this "Christmas gift" she brought and left with my girls... Peeps, We are over the dog phase. At least I thought we were…

A while back in a pathetic act of “I am the man of this house, I am 40 years old, and I want my own dog…” my husband began looking for a lab. (uhm, h-e-l-l-o, mid-life crisis?!) We had many words over this.  I will leave out the details, but finally in a weak moment, I said – “Fine!…but I will not feed this dog, or take care of her.  EVER.  You have to do everything for her. PROMISE ME!”

My man: “I will. But you can’t be mean to me about this.  Or I won’t do it. I don’t want us to have problems over a dog. We don’t need another complication in life. We already have teenagers.”

Me: “fair enough. I’ll never mention it, and I’ll even make an effort to engage with her on holidays and when passing her in the night.  But no other exceptions. none! Deal?”

DEAL.

Months go by and I feel certain my man has forgotten this ridiculous idea. I was foolish. I am foolish. I was fooled.

Unbeknownst to me, my sis-in-love began working with a shelter for dogs.  She has been posting pictures and sad stories on her facebook in an effort to find homes for these animals.  (side note: “J” is new to the family, and when she agreed to marry my brother we made her beg to love us, even if she decided she didn’t like my brother.  She’s that kind of gal.  We L-O-V-E her.  She’s little bitty and wears a tiny size 6 shoe and my girls think "J" is all that and a bag of chips. She is all kinds of cuteness… designer clothes, bags, shoes and make-up…she’s a girly girls dream come true. What’s not to like? ...Well I’m about to tell you…)

Apparently, one of these critters ”J” posted caught the eye of my #2 and she started texting “J” if she could come see the dog.  So on a Saturday afternoon my #2 and my man break the news to me that they are going to “look” at dogs, they were just going to look. Now let me just say this, my man is not a liar, he’s honest to a fault, So when he says, I’m just going to check them out.” I believed him…but I was a fool.

Enter Ariel…aka Houdini…(among many other special names I have marked her with.)

I wasn’t thrilled.  But I held back and said very little. (I was playing up that whole submissive wife role.  I’m an incredible actress…) I had made a deal. I was foolish, but I had made a deal.  All my might and strength had been stripped in a moment of weakness for a man in a mid-life crisis and a dog that requires ointment on her nose. (sigh!)If you read my facebook, you know that this has been a trying time in the Moore household.  But i want to do this season in my life justice...so, in my bitterness, i blogged...let's begin...

…Day 1: we go to church, we leave her in utility room. It’s 8 x 5. (Think: jail cell) It’s crowded in there. It’s a perfect place for a dog to be contained. Unless you like your clothes.  When we arrive from church, every hanging item has been ripped down to the floor from drying rack.  There is dog food spread everywhere; water bowl tipped over and …my favorite…that lovely odor of urine.

 What the heck? We freakin’ rescued this dog! Where’s the gratitude?

Being the good, submissive( heavy on the submissive part) wife that I am a say nothing, and just start cleaning up.  We are all tip toeing around the issue and acting as if this is a onetime thing.  Smiles and I love you’s all around. No big deal.

Bu night time we decide that she cannot stay in the laundry room as she is howling incessantly…I feel like I’m in a vampire movie and there is a wolf howling steadily in my home.  But the weird part is, every time I look over at my man, I feel like I’m the vampire, because I swear my teeth are become fang like and I feel vicious. But I am submissive. The good wife. Strong. Mighty.

We put Arial in our room and she falls asleep.

peaceful rest huh?... apparently sometime in the night she woke up and found that laptop cords are DELICIOUS!  I feel hatred. Pure cold hatred.

So we begin Day 2: at 6:00 a.m. my man leaves for a 24 hour business trip. 24 hours. Just 24 hours. I grab my coffee and head outside. I spend a little time with Jesus, and then go in to re-fill my cup, and start getting ready for work. As I open the door to walk in, Lilly is sitting at attention staring at me like, “how could you?”…and behind her is Ariel ripping to shreds a throw pillow, as well as all my fall décor that was displayed.

I have no words…that I can speak out loud. I want to knock her sleeping body off my couch and ask her what she was thinking...but when i say her name, she doesn't even budge...But i know one thing, I’m not picking this up and so I act like I can’t see it…but I can see it, and worse- what I can see, that  is making my blood pressure elevate to abnormal levels, is that she has chewed the knob of off my armoire.   

I grab my phone and start texting my Sis-in-LAW.  She replies, “you need to crate her. I’ll bring you some chew toys.  It’s just a stage and won’t last long. I’m sorry about your armoire…you can try wood putty to fix it!”  “J” is totally falling off of my favorites list.  And that is sad, because I had really high hopes for her.

After discussing all this with my BFF she encourages me to embrace it…”look, you are soooo stuck,  you may as well roll with it and just go all out and make it look exactly how you want.  Decorate. Make it the best dog room ever! You can do this. You can’t say anything derogatory or the deal will be broken, so just go all out the other way…” I get my mind around this idea and think, “ok, I’m in. I CAN do this.”  I take the day off work, and $200 later I am the proud owner of a crate, chew toys, and rubber based water and food bowls. I have moved my freezer out to the garage, and wedged this crate between the dryer and my wall. This is fail proof.  I am mighty. And I can do this.

Day 3: my man is back.  He’s pretty impressed that I’ve actually spent money on her, until I tell him how much.  To which he replies, “hey, I’m not even sure we are keeping her yet!  Don’t spend any more money on her yet!”  I take deep breaths, smile, wink a little, and think to myself…”IM WINNING! IM WINNING! He hates to spend money on stuff like this!!” look, I can be shallow- occasionally- and very competitive.  And I’ve had rare moments of passive aggressive behavior.  Rare. In a submissive wife kinda way…whatever, its working for me.

Today I am thankful that I am married. Look, lets not play games here, this could go either way.  but today, I am still married...

I am also winning.  Because, even though I’m losing this dog battle in real life, today - in this fantasy I’ve created in my head, I AM WINNING. today!, okay, maybe tomorrow, probably not....but relishing just for today!

Keeping you thankful,

~Penny

Part 2 tomorrow...