Welcome to my world!

My life's been crazy since my Daddy moved in with me immediately after my mother's death in October 2010. My one and only kiddo headed to college at Carolina at the end of August. So...I lived on my own, for the first time in my life, for a total of a blissful six weeks. Then, I started the parenting gig with my dad. He's a combination of a grouchy old man, a surly teenager and a temperamental toddler. Needless to say, I get very close to the brink of insanity sometimes. I get through life by finding the humor in difficult circumstances. And for some reason, I wind up in the weirdest situations. I couldn't make this stuff up. So I wind up having lots and lots crazy adventures which make great stories to share with my friends. Writing about my life is so therapeutic. My ramblings range from funny to sad to angry (full of cuss words) to sweet. While my focus is dealing with the trials and tribulations of being a parent to my Daddy, I have lots of random, totally unrelated posts. Whatever's on my mind. I love to make people laugh, and I'm happy to think my readers will get my strange sense of humor. And maybe, people who are in my situation will be encouraged. That's all I can hope for...

Sunday, August 28, 2011

A Dog

I decided to take the plunge and get a dog for The D.  So after Deb and I took him out to Cordova to see his empty house so we could get his blessing to put it up for sale, we stopped by the Humane Society's new shelter.  I have some preferences in dogs.  Medium-sized.  Like a shepherd or collie.  Female.  Not agressive with cats.  House trained.  Older (puppies chew everything).  No excessive licking or barking.  For the right dog, I could be flexible.  These aren't deal-breakers.  But being a pit-bull is one.  My heart breaks for them, but I can't go there.  And as it turns out, there's another deal-breaker I hadn't anticipated.

Like dogs, with men I have my preferences along with some things I can't tolerate.  Under any circumstances.  Like bad teeth, bad grammar, poor hygiene, smoking, bad manners, no job.  I'm flexible with regard to politics and religion - a good thing, since I seem to find myself surrounded by athiest liberals.  I only have a few must-haves on my list of qualifications Mr. Right.  The main ones are honesty, a good sense of humor, high emotional intelligence, regular old intelligence and kindness.  For dogs, I'm much more flexible.  Mainly, I want one who'll make The Daddler happy and not wreck my house or finances.

So, back to the Humane Society shelter.  I started out in the open area at the entrance.  It was quiet.  I walked down the aisle looking at each dog.  Turns out, they were, without exception, full or part pit bull and male.  Several were missing a leg, and Deb couldn't handle that, so she retreated to the cat area.  I went into the back section, which was full of dogs in cages on both sides.  Unlike the front cages, which were behind glass, the back cages had wire fronts.  As a result, it was extremely loud - most of the dogs were barking.  More pit bulls.  One of them had his nose pressed against the wall and was snarling and drooling.  It was strange and very sad.  My anxiety level surged to the point of a panic attack and I high-tailed it out of there.  Back to the reception desk.  The girl told me that over half the dogs were at least part pit bull and the others were mostly large dogs.  She offered to make a list for me but I told her I couldn't go back in.  She said she had one in mind and that she could bring it out for me to see, but that he was missing a leg.  I told her that didn't matter to me.  So she went to get him.

And we met EJ.  A big fluffy schnauzer-poodle mix.  Gray and white.  We couldn't see his eyes through his bushy bangs.  He was about five years old and had lost his right front leg.  Which made me love him more.  He was so sweet.  The Daddler took to him right away.  So did I.  But he immediately peed on the wall.  Maybe he was excited.  The girl said they should've taken him outside first.  So she got a guy to take him outside.  When he brought EJ back, I asked if he'd peed.  He said yes.  Then we took him into the cat house to see how he acted toward cats.  He was perfect.  Didn't even bark.  He seemed happy to see Test Cat.  TC hissed at him and he backed off.  Good sign.  But then, EJ peed on the wall.  Again.  Ok, no two ways about this - he was marking his territory.  He was five years old before he'd gotten fixed.  There's no undoing that.

I hate to sound heartless, but I can't have a house that smells like urine.  Especially not after the stinky chair debacle.  If Bulimic Cat's puke smelled anything like my stomach flu-induced vomit the other night, she'd be history.  Or at least an outdoor cat.

Speaking of the stinky chair, I finally figured out what my carport looks like.  Sanford & Son.  Seriously.

So, back to EJ.  There's a 24 hour waiting period, so I left my application.  I can't get EJ out of my mind and I'd love to have him, but peeing on the wall is a definite deal-breaker.

I have my limits.

I think I'll ask Mr. Man to help me.  He's good with animals.  He keeps his emotions at bay.  I haven't met Mambo or Lobo yet, but from what his mom says, they're very well behaved.  He's a regular dog-whisperer.  I think he's been trying to use those techniques on me.  But I'm slightly feral.  Which might make me a challenge.

On that note, I'm signing off.  I have some unpleasant tasks waiting for me.

Tomorrow is the funeral for my dear friend, L's mom.  I need a good night's sleep for that.

I ordered a Kindle 3G and it should come tomorrow.  Reading's been my salvation.  Blogging is good.  Whatever works...

No comments:

Post a Comment