Separation Anxiety

Those of you who have read my blog before can attest to the fact that, well, I'm not so good with pets. I've caused the death of many a marine animal. In fact, I've seen so many pass, I stopped naming the *insert profane expression* things! Its ridiculous. I mostly blame my innate lack of motherly nurturing skills. I really don't know how on earth my 3 current fish are still alive, as I hardly ever feed them.. maybe once every two weeks at best.

I thought I had redeemed myself when we got Dexter. The Husband and I had been yearning for a puppy for a long time. For me it was to temporarily satiate my need for a baby, for the Husband it was to gain a life long companion (well, one that doesn't constantly nag i.e. moi.)
Our ideal puppy was an English Bulldog. Adorable in every way, from the rolls to the slobber, we were convinced a bulldog would be perfect for us. Until we noticed the (wheeze, gasp, choke) cost. I mean, we're not exactly living in rags here, but 2,000 bucks is not exactly "petty cash" to us. So, we decided to adopt.
If you have never had the experience of going to the animal shelter to take a gander at prospective pets, I would NOT recommend it. You will want to adopt every animal there! These abandoned/abused animals stare at you with their giant "please love me" eyes and they are impossible to resist.

After looking at several dogs I pulled the Husband aside and asked him what he thought. Usually, when asked this question he responds with "I dunno", but this time he actually had an answer. "I like the white fluffy one, over there". Well then, ok! I was down with that, besides, I find it incredibly attractive when a man knows what he wants (suggestive raising of eyebrows and winking of eye).

We walked over to the cage of a beautiful American Eskimo. The Husband knelt down and gently opened the cage door. The dog bolted out and immediately jumped up on the Husband and licked his face. The Husband was in love. I've got to hand it to Dexter, he certainly knew how to get adopted. Looking and acting all innocent and loving, he made us believe he was the perfect dog. American Eskimos are known for being smart, case in point. So, we adopt him. We had to, he practically made out with my Husband for crying out loud!

Once we got Dexter home I figured I needed to take a long hard look at my pet keeping skills. A dog is NOT a fish, obviously. Maybe this is hypocritical of me, but I would feel a whole lot worse if I killed a dog via neglect than I do with my fish. So, I made a pledge to myself to treat this dog as I would want to be treated. Live by the "Golden Rule" and such. I swore I would feed him diligently, brush his mangled mane, clean up his poopie, even bathe the animal! I would be the best pet owner of all the freakin' land! And I tried.

Then, the real Dexter came out. Sure he was cute and cuddly, but the welcoming eyes we fell in love with at the shelter gave no indication that he liked to bark. He waggly tail never once led us to know that he liked to poop on the carpet out of spite. His playful and attentive ears wouldn't tell us his REAL secret, never would we have know that he LOVES to bite small children!!!

So after MONTHS of dealing with angry parents, annoyed neighbors, animal control and yes, even the police, I just couldn't take it anymore! I was doing my part, I honored my pledge, but Dexter just wasn't holding up his end of the bargain. I had to get rid of him.

I felt terribly guilty about it, wanting to give my dog back to the horrible place I had saved him from. The Husband was the most depressed out it. It was HIS dog, after all, his life long companion. I made him swear he didn't care if we got rid of Dex, swear on his life, swear on all that is good and holy. He did. I still don't believe him. But, because I am a selfish and small minded human being, I made the Husband wrangle Dexter into the car, one Saturday morning, and we made the long drive back to the humane society.


We walked Dexter into the receiving department, and suddenly, he was so well behaved. He sat quitely as I filled out the necessary paperwork. Happily looked at the camera as they took his picture. Didn't even flinch when we took off his collar and tied a rough leash around his neck.

Then the strangest thing happened. The ladies at the desk asked me to describe Dexter, his pros and cons, his personality, etc. I couldn't think of a single bad thing about him. I couldn't think of how he had chewed up all of my favorite high heels, how he attacked 3 little girls, how he barfed in my bedroom. I gushed about how he was the best dog on earth. He was always so happy to see me when I got home from work. He loved to cuddle and could make anyone smile. He was so smart and funny. The ladies assured me that because he was up to date on his shots he would get adopted out that same day. I said my last good byes to Dex and watched, suddenly stunned, as he walked down the long hallway to the next room.

We walked out the front door and I immediately burst into tears. I mean, REAL tears. Uncontrollable, mascara ruining, snot running down my face, tears. I cried the entire drive home. What is wrong with me?! I know I'm a hormonal woman, but really, I've got problems.

So, the fact is, I'm not so good with pets, or separation for that matter. There's no going back. Dexter has worked his magic on another unsuspecting young couple by now and is chewing up someone elses brown suede stilettos. (sigh) Please bless having kids won't be this hard.

Even MORE Embarrassing

There are definitely some items that I purchase at the store regularly that I would rather other shoppers didn't see me buy. Tampons, for one, are always very awkward. I put them in my cart and its like suddenly I have the scarlet letters "PMS" pasted to my shirt. It's true. I know people are thinking "Lucky her", "Glad I'm not a woman", "Her poor husband", etc... because, I will admit, I've thought the same thing when I notice a similar item in other shoppers carts.

It's even worse if I see a guy buying tampons because EVERYONE is thinking "Poor schmuck". Am I right, or am I right? I'm proud to say I've never made my husband buy me ANY type of "That Time of the Month" supplies before,nor do I plan on making him in the future. It's just cruel and unusual punishment, that's what it is.

I also feel totally uncomfortable picking up my birth control from the Pharmacy each month. For some strange reason, even though there are an equal amount of men and women Pharmacy Techs working when I go, the men always help me get my prescription. The reason I hate that, is because I use the Nuva Ring (most amazing birth control EVER... you only need to worry about it once a month), which states on the front of the package (sorry for the bluntness) "Insert Vaginally Once Every 3 Weeks". So when these men Pharmacy Techs retrieve my lovely pregnancy prevention prescription, THEY always get embarrassed, which makes ME embarrassed! After I pay for it they quickly hand it off and then wipe their hands on their smocks... like my birth control has poisoned them!

Of course buying any sort of medicine that indicates you have bowel problems is always fun. Who doesn't love to be seen carrying around Ex-Lax or Bean-O. Tell me you feel the same way! Same with purchasing a toilet plunger. Purchasing one basically screams "I clogged the toilet, BIG TIME"... this item is even more embarrassing if purchased in conjunction with Drain-O AND Imodium.

Or how about gossip magazines. Yeah, I like to read them... call it a guilty pleasure. But there's always that one person ahead of you in line who gives you "the look". You know the look, the "HOW COULD YOU" or "Don't you have a life?" look.

So, I'll admit when they came out with the "Self Check-Out" system, my embarrassing item shopping anxiety was greatly lessened. Sure people still see me in the aisles of the store hauling around Tampons, Pepto-Bismol, Hemroid Creme (never yet, but that would be horrific, I'm sure), and toilet plungers (hopefully only 1 at a time).... but I don't have to stand in line with those items presented on the check-out belt of doom for all (in front of you, behind you, and those checking you out) to see.

Well, the whole entire point of this post is to tell the following story:

The Husband and I were purchasing something at the store some time ago (not sure what we were buying, but positive it wasn't any of the a fore mentioned "embarrassing items") and it was PACKED. It must have been around a holiday. So we had to wait in line to even use the self check-out. Finally it's our turn and this lady just swoops in ahead of us and STEALS our self check-out machine! Seriously, how rude! The Husband and I both looked at each other in shock, and he said something to the effect of "I think we were next in line", just loud enough so that this lady could hear us. She heard it alright. She turns around and snaps at us, "Well, if you would help me, I'm sure this would go a lot faster."

This lady has long insane looking hair and "crazy eyes". She was holding a bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide and a turkey baster. We were both rather taken back. Then she says, "I've got a doggy emergency!" Ok... she's buying a turkey baster and hydrogen peroxide... Several horrific images ran though my mind when I put everything together, but the fact is, I did NOT want to know what type of "doggy emergency" she was dealing with. I was more than happy to let her butt in line.

See, the moral of the story is: Yeah, there are a lot of embarrassing items to purchase, but there is ALWAYS someone buying something even more embarrassing than you.

"Doggie Emergency" supplies, for example.....

Another Fishy Fatality

Yes, it's true, I've had yet another Fishy Fatality! Last weekend the Husband and I went to feed the fish, only to find Fritz sucked into the water filter! Yes, just like Trevor had been several months before. I was devastated! Poor little Fritz.

Upon discovering this terrible scene, the Husband quickly unplugged the water filter to free our fishy pal. I have no idea how long he had been there, but it caused massive amounts of damage. Fritz's once full shiny fins were now frayed and sparse. The poor little guy barely had any energy to swim around... who am I kidding, the sad fellow was just bobbing at the surface. He wasn't dead though. If I tapped the glass he'd swish his little fin to show he was hanging in there.

When I fed the masses, Fritz just watched the flakey meal float about him. It was truly heartbreaking. I felt especially sad because Fritz was MY fish. I picked him out all by myself. I was drawn to him because of the black mark above his mouth, which looked like a little Hitler mustache (hence the name Fritz, I was convinced he was a follower of the Fuhrer). Not that I'm in support of a fascist dictatorship, I just thought his little mustache was quite endearing.

Now that I think about it, Fritz did kind of rule the roost... er.. school. Hey, maybe he was the one who killed Trevor! Perhaps Trevor was edging in on Fritz's power, so Fritz pushed him into the water filter. Now that I think about it even MORE, one of our fish is named Joe... GI Joe (because of his camo spots)... maybe he over threw Fritz!!! I digress.

Well, unfortunately, the Husband and I had to go away for the weekend so I was unable to watch over Fritz while he suffered in that cold dark tank.

When we got back, however, Fritz was STILL ALIVE. What a trooper! The Husband moved him to his own little bowl, a private healing chamber. But, Fritz wasn't looking too good. When I tapped on the bowl he hardly even moved a gill. Occasionally he would adjust his floating position, but let's just say, he had one foot in a watery grave.

Well, yesterday I got home excited to see some increasing maritime movement in my favorite Fritz, only to be destroyed. The Husband informed me that Fritz had passed on a few hours earlier. He didn't want to tell me while I was at work, knowing it would ruin my day. Poor, poor, Fritz.

I'm feeling much better today, I know he's in a better place now and all that jazz. The thing that concerns me is, why can't I keep a freaking gold fish alive?! Seriously! I've been wanted to get a puppy and of course one day I'll want a baby... but how on earth can I possibly be trusted with more serious things when I've let two of my favorite fish get sucked into and paralyzed by a water filter?! I've got some serious issues that need to be reckoned with. It think I need to go see an aquatic grief counselor...

In deep SH*T

It has come to my attention as of late, that my entire front yard is almost completely covered in poo. Yes, POO. It has also come to my attention that the only pet I own, has poo about the size of pencil lead, if that. It has ALSO come to my attention that even IF my pet had large poo, it could never even make it to the front lawn without dying... seeing as it lives in a watery prison.

So, who's a girl to blame for this atrocious act, this dismal deed, this putrid performance?!? WHO?! Seeing as I had a BIG problem and no answers, I decided to start an intense and thorough crime scene investigation.

The first thing I noticed was that the poops were mostly the same size. This crime was obviously committed by a smaller dog, or dogs. There are many of these around the neighborhood, so it's difficult to say which one it is. I had thought of blaming my parents pups (who happen to live next door): Dill, the schnauzer and Bandit, the pug. They do pretty much have free reign of the neighborhood, and lets face it, they're DOGS (smaller dogs, as a matter of fact), they think they can poop anywhere they please!

Dill and Bandit were looking like prime suspects and I was getting ready to take some legal action... However... upon further investigation of the scene of the crime, I noted that the evidence can only be spotted on the front lawn, not in the back yard or the side yard. I found this knowledge strange, seeing as Dill and Bandit frequent my back yard on a daily basis. Hmmm....

This case was really starting to bother me. I mean, sure, it's just poop... but, it's POOP! Who honestly likes cleaning up poop? Especially if it's not your own pets? I was ready to give up on my crusade, when this morning, a very enlightening event occurred. I was getting ready to leave for school and opened the front door to walk out to my car.

Upon opening the front door, I encountered a man just standing on the sidewalk, facing my house, with his hands in his pockets. He obviously didn't realize I had opened the door, probably because I was being camouflaged by the closed screen door. I was a little disturbed at first, wondering why this man was just standing in front of my house, until I noticed a tiny black line leading out of his pocket. The line was a leash and it was connected to a dog, cocker-spaniel, to be exact. This dog was sniffing around my FRONT LAWN while the owner just stood there.

I was about to just walk out to my car when I heard, "Come on Jackie, go poop". Excuse? Yeah, you heard right, this MAN was prompting his SMALL COCKER-SPANIEL to take a DUMP on my LAWN!!!! I was furious! I loudly opened the screen door and said "uh, HELLO"! The owner, who was OBVIOUSLY guilty... HE WAS CAUGHT IN THE ACT... quickly said "Oh,

Jackie, don't, bad Jackie!" then ran away.

GRAAAAHHHH!!!! Are you freaking kidding me?! So, (as my little brother says) thing wrong #1: It is totally against the law to NOT clean up your pet's shiz, thing wrong #2: It is totally against common decency and etiquette to prompt your ugly cocker-spaniel to "do it's duty" on a perfect stranger's lawn EVERY DAY!!! Ok, maybe not every day, but enough days to make an impact on me. I suppose I'm not exactly a "stranger", seeing as the man lives down the road, but it's not like we're chums or have ever even talked to one another... not that being friends with a person gives you the right to let your dog crap on their lawn anyway!!!!

So, what should I do? It's taken every ounce of strength for me NOT to call the Animal Control and tattle-tell. "Come on Jackie, go poop", argh! That keeps sounding over and over again in my mind. Oh, and on a side note, who names their dog Jackie? Really, pets aren't humans! (I'm in a mad rage right now, so don't take offense if you happened to name your dog Bill or something.)

I've been give a few other more deserving suggestions on "how to deal" with the situation: put the poopie on a plate and deliver it to the owner's home, put the poop in a bag and light it on fire on the door step, and even have someone I know poop on the owner's lawn. But, I really am torn. I don't think the offense had quite reached lynching status... but if I find ONE more piece of digested dog food on my lawn... I'm going to do SOMETHING. I'm not sure what that SOMETHING is yet, but it's going to be BAD... VERY BAD.