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 3rd 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...
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.