If I could only count the number of nights I went to bed praying when I was little that I would get a family one day (because yeah, I thought it was like one of things that you get in the mail or something), I had no idea what exactly I was getting into.
Granted I do not have a family but… I do have a dog. She was gifted to me by my boyfriend Mike… This was bout 6 months into our relationship and about 3 months after I graduated college. He pulled the trigger fast with the dog move. I mean I had hinted multiple times about my desire for a dog, but anyone who knew me or who had a professional evaluation of my life would’ve said that I was exactly the kind of person who should not get a dog. Until I got Lilly I had not taken care of so much as a plant. Not even a goldfish. Noda.
So as I was crutching along trying to learn how to balance budgets, wake up before dawn, dress myself appropriately, and learn the value of a dollar, I was also learning how to take dogs outside to go to the bathroom (which I failed at miserably and was left with a $600 carpet bill when I left my 4th story apartment for a house with a year.) I just really wouldn’t have wanted to be the people who lived under my apartment if you know what I mean.
I have come along way since then. And Lilly is a highly functioning neurotic king Charles cavalier spaniel. The grooming lady loved her, apparently the last two times she has been in there she has befriended a former abused dog and has helped incorporate them into the dog pack hierarchy. What an abused dog is doing at the groomer I don’t know? I’m actually not sure what this lady was trying top explain to me about Lilly, but the zip here is that she is special. Even the bet said she was a great dog. Obviously they didn’t ever hear about the three $80 apple computer cords she ate, or the countless Victoria secret bras.
The vet didn’t hear about the time she ate the butane lighter, or her weird habit of eating the crotch out of my underwear, if not the whole thing. It’s gross I know, but I lived with it. Every price of wood furniture I have bears witness to the damage Lilly can do. My disappeared sock collection also bears witness. I call her Lilly monster when I am mad. And she knows it. When she used to go to the restroom inside I would yell at her (because the dog whisperer lady I went and saw about her said I needed to stop spanking her because that is what was making her so crazy… Uh huh… So you say… Well I got spanked and I turned out fine, right? Okay don’t answer that dog lady) but when I would yell at her about going to her restroom accident she would then bark madly at me. Like really mad at me for telling her no. To get her to shut up I should usually have to lock myself in the closet or bathroom, somewhere that has a door with a high handle. that of was nuts. On top of it all it wasn’t working. So my apartment smelled like dog pee and Resolve. As a result I would then purchase a boat load of candles. Then my boyfriend would come over and tell me how much all my candles freaked him out. Can’t blame him… I was on the fourth story, and the tons of candles did sometimes turn my apartment into something that could pass as a gothic church.
She (Lilly) is just so freaking smart. When we play chase, I will start the game out chasing her around in circles and by the end of it she is chasing me. I end up looking like that girl on the sun screen bottles. King Charles cavalier spaniel my ass, she’s got some kind of pit bull in her somewhere I just know it.
Anyways yes, so my attempt at a responsibility was rough. But now Lilly and I have a blossoming relationship. She loves me. I love her. When I look at her I used to see dollar signs and now when I look at her I see hearts. The little feisty thing has grown on me. She has also become more happy herself, which is great. Her attachment anxiety (yes it is a real thing) hasn’t gotten much better, but baby steps.
The entire point of this was to tell you that part of every dog owners duty is to get their dog spayed or neutered. Obviously I still haven’t don’t that. That shit is expensive and I probably don’t qualify for a loan. Yes, I drive a BMW that my parents gave me (the day it stopped qualifying for its warranty, but still it was a free car). However the BMW has turned out to be somewhat of a money pit for repairs… And that doesn’t even include the hail damage I just got. Thank you Oklahoma weather.
So I didn’t get lily spayed. I did have her scheduled to get it done. And I even went to the place at 8 am on a Saturday morning in a town that was 20 minutes away (cheaper place) But I KID YOU NOT, the place got hit by a tornado the nit before her appointment. When I drove up the entire street was blocked off, power lines were everywhere.. Police cars… Yellow tape… The whole thing.
So I called the place before turning around and someone answered and said they were going to still be doing operations because they still had power? And I’m like how the eff do you guys have power when the entire city almost is out and the tornado touched ground less that a block from you? But they did, so I guessed they had a generator. That was fine. I mean sketchy but fine. Well then I asked how I got there since the block was taped off and she said, “you’re going to have to park down the street at the Arby’s parking lot and then walk here.”
As if that wasn’t sketchy enough. It sounded like the beginning of a pet horror movie. Milo and Otis gone bad. “We started walking from the Arby’s…” Yeah right. I hate freaking Arby’s. One time my family had to go get hepatitis B shots because we saw an ad in the newspaper that said there was a possibility that people who ate from a certain Arby’s between certain times on the day and time we went… Had to go get hep shots that would ll be paid for by Arby’s. Woohoo. Free shots. Great.
Lilly didn’t get spayed that day. I told them I would reschedule… But they never called about it again I think they heard the fear in my voice when I canceled.
So now she’s having her doggie period for the 2nd time, which is horrible because she thinks that she is dying. She’s hiding in dark corners and sleeping under beds. She looks at me with these sad “help me” eyes. She is also debuting some of the angry side of her that I haven’t seen in a while. I’m sure she is confused and frustrated. I mean technically, Eve was a person. Why should dogs have to suffer too. Not fair. Poor things.
Well so now she is miserable. And she is wearing diapers which is just humiliating for everyone. Even the people who just see her get embarrassed for her. It’s like she doesn’t wear clothes the other 350-ish days of the year, but all of the sudden pants are mandatory while she’s on her period. ‘Tis messed up. Honestly if it were up to me I’d just let her not wear a diaper. This might be getting to detailed but she takes care of the problem on her own for the most part. But yeh ewww, I’m not going to get into the details. But I would let her just do that because the diaper makes her eyes all wild and crazy, but Mike won’t allow it. I guess that the reasonable thing to do, but still.
I just thing it’s time. She has to get spayed. I know it’s not my call whether to say she can continue her blood line or not, but I am making an executive decision. And despite what she thinks I am an executive. I am a human. She is a dog. Right? It’s got to happen. I’ve got to move and she has got to got to get neutered.