Wordless Wednesday

 

Best Buddies

JM and Newman were the best buddies. They grew up together, JM was one year younger than Newman. 

 

Anyone who knew and loved JM knows he’s been anxious his whole life. Change of any kind was very upsetting to him. If I moved furniture to mop, he’d hide in my room; he was afraid of loud noise and would shake uncontrollably; If we had people over, it would take days for him to fully relax and not check around the corner each time he walked into a new room. The past four months I had him on CBD oil and I could see it was helping a little. He also suffered from hearing loss, cognitive decline, and was beginning to lose control of his body: sometimes he’d slip, trip, or fall while trying to lay down or go up the stairs. We used sign language for some basic commands. He suffered from severe separation anxiety and on days I’d go to the office, he’d cling to me the whole night and next day. I miss that slobbery asshole. He was an innocent, scared puppy in a grown dog body. 

 

And last week he had a really bad week. There were landscapers next door with loud machines and a mini-crane. I went to the office two days last week. We had a birthday party with several people. It was trauma after trauma.

Those traumas and issues culminated in the worst way on Thursday when Newman ran for water coming from the hose, and JM jumped off the deck and clamped onto his head.

 

I couldn’t break them apart for over a minute. It was horrible and scary and my screams actually injured my throat. I thought Newman was dead. I ran to the sink and rinsed him off and rushed Newman to the ER. He had several puncture wounds and what I learned later, a torn trachea.

 

All things considered, it could have been worse. Much, much worse. 

Over the next two days I had to make choices and decisions no one ever wants to make; I had to help my girls understand those decisions. I felt guilt and remorse and played the ‘what if’ game way too many times. I talked to our vet for 45 minutes on Thursday and another 30 minutes on Friday. He reassured me I was doing the right thing. He told me not to feel guilty. I adore my vet.

 

It remains the most difficult decision I’ve ever had to make. 

 

I don’t have my JM anymore, but I get some more time with this little trooper. He’s straight up boss level resilient. He was in surgery for two hours; He’s got three drain tubes, six prescriptions, and no less than 70 stitches. He’s a goddam stud. And I’m lucky and thankful to have him.

 

I need to get some things done

I need to do laundry for the dramas and get them all packed to spend the weekend at Grandma’s house. Packing a week’s worth of clothes for two girls, toothbrushes, stuffed animals, games, video games and PS2, Guitar Hero and both guitars, AND they want to take a laptop so they can blog!  (I caved today and set them each up with a blog of their own. Of course, I have it set so that only family and those I put on the list can access it because we all know I’m a paranoid freak and won’t let strangers close to my kids)

I need to do laundry and pack for the man and I.  A week worth of clothes, dress clothes for the captain’s dinner (the man is willing to wear a suit. I damn near passed out), shoes, I have no idea what the hell to pack so I’m taking a little of everything.  I have to print the maps to get to the dock and our pass to get on the ship and our luggage bags, and get the necessary paperwork since we have never thought to get a fucking passport.  Who knew?

I did the grocery shopping and got the dog food and food for my brother because he is coming over and staying with the dogs. The dogs and the new face of domestic terror.  Oh wait, I haven’t introduced you to the new face of domestic terror?  She who puts the terror in terrorist?  She who we’ve affectionately dubbed Terrorist?  You haven’t met yet?  Allow me to introduce you:

Meet the Terrorist

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Boy weighs in at 188 and the girls are 156 and 134 each. Then there is The Terrorist BellaB who weighs three pounds.  We got her on December 19th.  Up until last week, she could only play with the youngest mastiff.  Now, she reigns terror on all three of them.  When we introduced her, Ginger (the youngest mastiff) immediately took to her and loved her and followed her everywhere sniffing her ass and raising her up off the floor.  Sage (middle mastiff) just knew that BellaB had a switchblade hidden in her undercarriage and was biding her time until she could shank her in her sleep. She would leave the room whenever BellaB was playing.  When BellaB and The Boy first met, it went something like this:  “Boy, meet BellaB.  BellaB is our new puppy.  We love BellaB.  We don't eat BellaB. Do you love BellaB?  You’re a good boy”  What I am convinced TheBoy actually heard was this:  “Boy, meet BellaB. BellaB is the most delicious and tender, tasty little Pork Chop you’ll ever eat and you should continue drooling and licking your lips until I put her down and then she is yours for dinner.  WHO IS A Good boy.”

Needless to say, the first couple weeks, they weren’t allowed to be alone together.  Not that I actually thought he would eat her.  Rather, I thought he would crush her with his 40 pound head or accidentally step on her and snap her like a twig.  (spare me the hate mail of why a puppy this small should never be integrated into a family of small moose. I don’t wanna hear it).

Anyway, now they are all best friends.  How you ask?  Baptism by fire of course. I put innocent little BellaB on the floor and all of the sudden, she transformed before my very eyes. She immediately became The Terrorist.  She chases the dogs.  She jumps on the dogs.  She annoys the ever loving piss out of them when they’re trying to sleep.  She runs through the house at Mach III and wears them completely out.  She is absolutely incapable of laying down to sleep when they are up because the thinks it is time to play.  When she comes in from outside, if one of them is laying on the floor sleeping, she will run at full speed, jump on their head and start licking them.  They hate her on the outside but you can totally see the love on the inside. 

I’d post better pictures than the ones from my phone, but my ass has grown roots to the love seat and I’m totally too lazy to go download the pictures on the real camera.  So, until I get back and start my scrapbooking posts of The Terrorist the baby and the vacation photos, you’ll all have to get your doggy fix elsewhere.