A Fight to Love

In August of 2006, our Saint Bernard passed in the middle of the night. My husband was heartbroken and completely devastated because she was his best buddy.  She slept when he slept - on the floor next to his side of the bed. When he woke, she'd be up and at his heel.  When he went to the shower, she'd wait patiently outside the door. When he went to work, she'd sleep by the front door, waiting for him to return.  He was her world and she was his.  Admittedly, I was envious of her at times for the attention she received, but she was such a lover.  She showed me love as well, but it wasn't the kind of devotion she had to my husband.  

In November of that same year, with much thought - and a bit of anguish - we decided that we were ready to bring a new love into our home. We debated on whether to adopt a boy or a girl. We settled on a girl so that we didn't have issues with our furniture and leg lifting.  We then debated puppy, young, or adult.  We settled on a puppy, that way we would have numerous years to spend making memories with them.  The final debate was size. We both looked at each other and decided small was the way to go.  We'd loved our Saint Bernard, but she took up quite a bit of space. Her bed of blankets took up a six-by-four foot space in two different rooms, and if I could have I would have given her her own room. 

I wanted to rescue rather than adopt from a breeder.  There are far too many abandoned pets that need to be loved. I started watching the rescue sites and the Humane Society.  Late in November there was a litter of Lhasa and in it, the cutest little girl pup!  I immediately pictured little pink bows in her hair behind her ears after being groomed.  I emailed her picture to my husband and he told me to go get her.  I called the Humane Society immediately to ask that they place her on hold for me, but they said that they already had an interested party playing with her.  

I asked what would happen to her if they decided against adoption and they said she'd be placed back in the kennel because no other inquiries had been made as yet. I gave them my name, called and asked my sister to go with me, and then set out to go get our new "baby." 

Alas, we were not meant to have her.  First, I went to the wrong facility.  When I did find the correct one, she had already gone with that other family.  I decided to go ahead and look around at the other dogs.  The shelter kennels were filled with dogs of every age. It eventually came time to pick up my nieces from school, so we left - sans pup. 

I went back with my nieces and let their mother have some free time to run errands since I'd dragged her with me.  We were walking past the outdoor kennels on our inside and there was this cute little dog wearing a t-shirt that was bedazzled with the word "spoiled" across the back. He wasn't even a foot tall, weighed about fourteen pounds, and as we walked by he followed us as best he could.  When we got inside, he met us at the end of the kennel and continued to watch us. My nieces fell in love with him!

I tried to walk away because he was the opposite of everything my husband and I had discussed.  The pup was a boy, not only a boy but an adult dog. He was four years old and though very puppy like in his actions, he was well on his way to being a full-fledged adult dog.

My husband met us at the shelter, and we began perusing all of the puppies.  One puppy in particular caught his eye. He was a terrier mix and very friendly. But, after watching him for about two minutes, decided against him. He'd had a pillow in the kennel with him and, I guess, decided to show us what he could do, and ripped the pillow apart, pulling out all of its innards. That started the conversation on whether or not we really wanted a puppy.  Which took us back to the adorable little "spoiled" Chihuahua.  He already had the name "Jack", which fit right along with us naming our animal after a Disney character (because, if you haven't already guessed it, we're Disneyphiles). 

We asked to spend a little time with him out in the play yard to see how he'd interact with the kids and us. Turned out that he was already a lap dog and loved my husband.  He was having a good time just being loved and pet by all.  It didn't take us long to decide that he was the one.  I told my husband that he had chosen us the moment we started the walk inside the building, so I'd thought it was pretty much a done deal the moment he liked the dog.

We began the adoption process.  They gave us his medical history which included neutering and surgeries for cherry eye in both eyes. We'd dealt with cherry eye before, so we knew what we were getting ourselves into. We asked that he be chipped because we knew that collars could be removed.  Our "counselor" disappeared and asked the vet tech to go ahead with the insertion.  He came back and we filled out our end of the paperwork.

A few minutes later, someone came up to our counselor and they both disappeared through the double doors. About ten minutes after that, our counselor came back and sat down, looking us both over. He told us that he didn't feel like they could adopt out the dog because he was now considered a vicious animal for biting the technician. He said that when she stuck the needle in Jack's neck, Jack turned and bit her hand. He hadn't been muzzled. 

My husband looked at the counselor and said, "We had the little happy Chihuahua. I didn't have a big menacing-looking dog."

Have you ever seen the size of those needles with the chip? They're huge! I can barely stand a butterfly needle being stuck in my arm, so I knew how he felt.

I asked what would happen to him and they said they'd put him down. I was not having that.  I told my husband that I didn't care, I wanted him. He bit because he got hurt, not because he was vicious. Our counselor offered us other options of course, but I didn't want another dog, I'd already fallen for this one.

We told him we needed a few moments but not to do anything with the dog.  We talked it over.  He was friendly with us and our nieces. He had been playful and very sweet.  There were no signs of viciousness at all.  We were not allowing them to put him down.

We told the counselor that we still wanted to adopt him.  He was concerned for the children; we let him know that we didn't have any.  He was concerned for other animals in the house; we only had one cat and knew that she could hold her own - she still had her claws.  

We had to sign a waiver, stating that we would not hold the Humane Society or anyone else at the shelter, responsible if he ever bit anyone.  We signed it gladly.  

When they brought him back out to us, he was walking along, happy-go-lucky like nothing ever happened. His tongue was hanging out, tail wagging, and just staring right at us.

We went out and spent about $200 on dog food, treats, a bed, some toys and a t-shirt. My husband wanted to get him a little leather jacket...not me, he did...but they were out.

Ooh! Vicious! NOT!

The following weekend, just days after he was deemed a vicious animal, we were at my father-in-law's Christmas party at his home.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a two year old toddler, pull Jack's tail and he just took it.  He didn't turn on her and snap.  He stood there, staring straight ahead, and let her do it. I went over to rescue him, but he never did a thing to attack her.

Vicious my arse!

Best buddies

Jack has even had pets! He still has one - the fluffy one - but she's turned into his toy fetcher/bath giver.  I don't think a vicious dog would play with a cat or allow them to bathe his ears and backside.

It's nearly six years later...

We've recently had a bit of a health scare with Jack.  He developed a bad cough.  We took him in when it first showed up in May, but his bloodwork only showed a thyroid issue and was negative for anything that could have been causing the cough.  After a few additional weeks, they decided to run the blood tests again and in June, he was diagnosed with Valley Fever.  

Here it is the middle of July and he still has the cough.  They told us that he will most likely be on medication for the rest of his life, depending on the severity of the illness.  If the cough didn't go away within six weeks, we'd run more tests at the three month mark.  We're nearing our eighth week, he's still got the cough.  We don't notice it, until we began to wean him off of the hydrocodone.  We won't be weaning again for another week.

His thyroid meds have helped him to drop about three pounds, so I no longer have my slightly chunky puppy.  We kind of miss the chunk, especially when just last weekend, I watched the newly pup of mine, climb the child gate that used to keep him penned up in the hall whenever we left the house.  I think we need a taller gate!

Our poor boy is losing his hair due to the side effects of the medication treating him for Valley Fever.  He's looking older and balder, but bless him, he still has that bouncy puppy attitude. 

Just admiring Daddy.

Friend or Foe?

There's an old saying which I believe came from Sun Tzu's "The Art of War":

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

This is so absolutely true, but what happens when you find out your friend was your enemy after all? 

This was a topic of conversation today.  A friend of mine found that one of her friends is a rather good actress when it comes to playing the friend part.  She'd thought this person to be her best friend.  Through the grapevine, she'd recently found that this was actually not the case.  The messenger relayed this sobering information to my friend by citing a particular instance between my friend and her supposed bestie.  She was devastated! I found myself not knowing what to say to her to help her feel better.  I couldn't even begin to guess what I would want anyone to say to me.  

After a few hours, a few more conversations, some relaxation and a shower, I finally realized some things. It's a shock to one's system, and they're not quite sure what to do with that information. They're hurt and may even be a bit on the defensive their first communiqué with that person.  With that first after-the-fact encounter, do they then discuss what has come to light or act like a duck and let it roll off their back?

This is why I don't have many friends. I have been burned by that very platitude more than once.  I've learned, as cynical as it may sound, that I can count on no one but myself.  If I am disappointed, I have myself to blame.  If I am saddened, I have no one to chastise except myself.  

There are those that say that no one can hurt you unless you allow them to.  I agree with this for the most part, but there are things beyond what little control we hold onto that can surprise the hell out of us.  We get broadsided by the shock of it.  The impact of it resonates through every bone of our body, shaking the very fiber of our being so much so that it cripples us for a time.

Why is it that what our best friends say to us wound us so deeply?  

When we say we have a best friend, we're saying that we have finally found that person--outside of our family--that we can trust with our inner most secrets.  We don't expect them to judge.  We fully expect that they will stand by our side, no matter the situation.  

Sadly, reality eventually hits for most of us, and we come to the realization that what we have is yet another hum-drum "friend"...not a best friend. 

People just have a lot of growing up to do.  I know this is true for me, but I have learned quite a bit from my harried past.  

For example, judging someone is not my job.  I may not appreciate things certain people do or the way they do them, but it isn't my place to tell them what they've done wrong.  I couldn't honestly say that in that moment I wouldn't have done the same.  Also, do I know for sure that the other way "I would have done things" would have been correct?

Opinions run amuck.  Everyone has an opinion.  It is our unfortunate job to listen to all of them.  We don't have to take them in, but if we don't allow them to be spoken, we are perceived as ignorant or uncooperative.  It just better to deal with it.

If, for whatever reason, someone steps in and tries to help you with your situation, however unwanted it may be, thank them.  You may still POLITELY turn them away, but thank them for their efforts nonetheless.

Don't sweat the small stuff.  They're never worth the amount of pain they cause when allowed to fester.

Play Time

Now wait a minute!  It's not what you think...I know some of you have a dirty mind.  Don't look shocked...you know who you are.

Or maybe it is what you think, because you have a pure mind. O.o
Whatever!

Anywho...

Games people! I'm talking board games, card games, and puzzles!  It's a lot more fun when you are teamed up with someone or are part of a small group of someones.  Why?  The gloat factor is much richer!

Gloat?  Who gloats? My husband, his father, his brother, and all their friends. They win a competition against the women and they gloat for months!  They lose and it's whining for even longer.

"You cheated."  

"You table-talked."

"You win one time, and you're proud of that? Let's see if you win the next one!"

"We let you win because we felt sorry for you."
"You lose so much, we had to let you win this one."

The next get together, they've forgotten they lost the last round.  I swear we need to keep a log somewhere of the times we win--but then they'd just accuse us of doctoring the log.

If you don't have a game night with family and friends--I'm talking AWAY from all the technology here people--DO IT!  You'll never laugh harder in your life!  It can create conversations, and you're having a good ol' time with people you love.