So, I’m sitting in my office at school and I feel like bawling but in a good way! A few things have happened that make me feel that feeling where you’re so happy but so emotional that bawling just happens.
Ma went in for a procedure yesterday regarding her esophageal varices and the news was good! Everything is looking the way it should and this issue is definitely under control! YEA! As my peeps know, ma is my rock and has always been there for me and I don’t know what I’d do without her, though most likely it would be moving in with my son (don’t tell him that and God forbid he’s reading this right now 😳).
But for the past couple of years, sissy and I have been doing a lot for ma and it feels good to us. We like being able to ‘pay it back’ in terms of what she’s given us and all I can say is this: “T….when ma moves in with you in her ‘elderlier’ years, I’ll come by and help all I can. K?” 😎
Then, I’m completely off one of the meds (Effexor) that was causing me to have MORE issues in terms of mania than I would have had without it. As I wrote before, 2 of my meds were at odds with one another and just getting this one completely out of my system has made such a difference. Before ma went into the OR she even said to me how much more calm and centered I am! (We ended up having to wait for about 3 hours before she got in so I read her some short-stories…when I’d look up at her, she’d be so engrossed in listening that it tickled me 😍).
I go back to the doc tomorrow and he’s going to start weaning me off my 2nd med (Prozac) which should be an easier process. The withdrawals from Effexor can be bad unless you’re carefully weaned. I had forgotten to take it a couple of times during the last few years (I wasn’t diligent in filling my script 😬) and after just 2 days without it, I was a crying/yelling/manically depressed mess. My sissy experienced the same thing when she was taking it and missed a couple of doses. Prozac should be easier on me and then I’ll start the mood stabilizer that is indicated for bipolar! I can’t wait to continue on this road because my hope is so high with controlling this fucking (sorry, ma 🙄) illness.
Also, my Mally is doing so much better! She is coming when I call her about 80% of the time and is interacting more with Eddie and I when we’re all inside. She’s responding more to treats and knows some commands: night night (to get her in her crate to sleep in at night), walk (she loves these but if I don’t get the leash on her before she goes out, she won’t let me put it on her…and that little shit can slip by me quickly!), c’mon, and treat! A couple of nights ago, I walked both her and Eddie together and besides Ed almost pulling my arm out of it’s socket, it went really well. I’m so pleased with Mally’s progress!
Finally, I am so so happy to be back on campus and for some reason, feel much more relaxed and loose. I think it’s because I missed it so much and also because of the last year and a half online. Putting all of my classes out there virtually made me go through the materials so thoroughly and I kept searching for more and more ways to encourage engagement. I’ve always been prepared but just feel like I have more in my storehouse of info. Today, 2 girls walked me to my office and one of this said this: “I love your class! It’s the only one I’m actually learning something in!” The other student agreed.
Now, am I bragging? Well…a bit…🤭…but actually, that’s the way it should be. I want my students to come out of each class feeling it was worth their while and these comments made me see it is so far. But the best thing is this: I get something from my students everyday as well…and that makes me happy!
So…I’m feeling emotional. A good emotional. When you have a mental illness, things don’t always line up like this and when they do, it needs to be savored. I’m always going to have good weeks…bad weeks…mediocre weeks…tough weeks…depressed weeks…manic weeks…and just plain shitty weeks. But, this week is a winner…and I’m lovin’ it!
So, I was writing another post about Bob’s Burgers and how much I love Linda but I’m feeling like a bit of a failure today and I need to get it down. Lord I love my 3rd grade teacher who put the love of writing in me. (She also used to kiss us all on the cheek every Friday and if you were lucky, you’d be first in line and get a lipstick mark on your face 💋!)
Anyhoot, I got my Corgi, Mally, on May 22nd from a breeder in my town. Bill and I were together then and visited her for the first time on May 2nd. She was really attentive to us and since I’d been wanting to adopt another dog, Mally seemed like she’d be a great fit for me. The breeder no longer needed Mally because of her last litter which had to be a Cesarean; so, since she could no longer have puppies, she was letting her go.
The outside of the breeder’s facility was clean and the barn where the dogs were kept and bred appeared to be nice too. She talked about how it was heated and air-conditioned but when we asked to go in, she wouldn’t let us. This should have been a red flag, but I was enamored with Mally and knew I was going to take her regardless.
Mally is 3-4…her actual age isn’t known because I got no medical records, AKA papers, etc. When I asked who the current vet was, the breeder told me the name of the facility but then said she wasn’t completely sure. Hmmmmm.
Anyhoot, I called the facility and they had no record on Mally. I also called a couple other vets in town and got the same answer. So, I took her in to get her vaccinated and examined and come to find out, she had an intestinal bug that’s only gotten through drinking dirty water. In other words, Mally was a breeder in what I now think is a puppy mill and her care was obviously minimal.
When Bill and I got her home, she spent the majority of her time in the space between my bed and wall (about 12″ in width) and unless we physically moved her, she wouldn’t go outside. However, once she was out she seemed happy. She played with Eddie and really responded to him. After all, she was used to being ONLY around dogs and it quickly became very clear to us that she had little to no human socialization. The first time I tried to smooch on her and give her a squeeze, she backed away in terror. (Now yes, I understand that men have done the same to me, but we’re going to focus on Mally right now 🙄).
It’s been a bit over 3 months now and I’m still struggling with her. She has made great strides but this is definitely a marathon I’m facing and not a sprint. She will come when I call her about 60% of the time (which is up from 0), finally responds to treats (she had never gotten any), and cuddles with me and Edward on the couch whenever I’m reading or watching the boob tube.
For some reason though, she has a lot of trouble after dark. No matter how well she came in for me during the day or responded to my voice, it’s a HUGE battle at night. I’ve put leashes on her (recommended by a trainer) when she’s out so I can grab it to reign her in, but Mally is fast! (She will NOT pee or poop while on a leash so I can’t just hold it…and it took us weeks to even get a collar and leash on her 💩). Bill and I both worked on leash training and she’s fairly good when she’s walking through the neighborhood but fights it in the yard dreadfully.
Yesterday morning, I got up before dawn to get some videos done for my classes and Mally wouldn’t come in from peeing in the yard with Ed…she usually does in the morning because she gets a goodie right after. It was still dark and she reacted like she does at night and because I was going to be late for class, I finally had to leave her out (with shelter and water) and my son came right over and got her in.
Why O? Well, Mally doesn’t like men. Period. She’s scared of them and when Bill would come into my yard, Mally would immediately run to the door. It’s the same thing with O: right when he walks into the yard, she runs inside. There were times when Mally submissively peed when Bill or O was around but that’s lessening. Yea! Her vet is male (and a 30 year old hunk with a man bun…I’m hoping Edward gets a rash or something soon so I can see him again 😳) and it took him quite a while to cajole her out from under the bench in the examination room when she was vaccinated. Even my pop can’t get her to come over to him and he’s pretty much a dog whisperer.
So, my quandary is this: I’ve been talking to dog behaviorists/trainers as well as an expert in Corgis and based on their experiences with puppy mill ‘bitches’, she believe that Mally will never be truly socialized around humans or completely lose her fear of men.
What she’s experiencing is akin to the human version of Reactive Attachment Disorder which is what neglected, un-nurtured kids develop because they don’t have a consistent person to attach to or be loved by. You see this in cases of children raised for their first couple of years in orphanages or by parents who have no emotional investment in the child at all. In Mally’s case, she was always in the barn with other dogs or outside in a field with them…she didn’t know what living in a house or around people was like. Further, I don’t know if she had ever had a leash on her besides the time when she got her C-Section and the only attachments she had, her many litters of pups, were taken away from her right at 8 weeks and all at the same time. When Bill and I picked Mally up, the breeder gave us a small baggie of food and said: “Well…Bye!” No affection towards Mally at all. She had no love…cuddles…family…socializing. She was simply a commodity for the breeder and her only job was to make money. Period. It breaks my heart to think of what her first 3 years were like.
And, like kids, once a dog gets past a certain age, the ability to attach becomes less likely. According to VetInfo: “Dogs with attachment disorder may exhibit any number of behaviors such as hyperactivity, they can be destructive, eat too much or too little, become clingy or unable to bond with their owners, and they can be impulsive.” I see a lot of this is Mally: her eating is not consistent, she hasn’t bonded with me, and she can be VERY impulsive.
At a few points this summer, I thought about surrendering Mally to a Corgi rescue that’s a couple cities away. I know she needs professional training and although I talk frequently to one, it’s not the same as her being trained directly by a specialist. I thought about this again yesterday after having fought through a couple of issues with Mally these past few days, and I am frustrated, scared, and angry.
I question if I’m ‘enough’ for Mally in terms of training and giving her a good life. I’m frustrated I’m not making more progress with her and want so bad for her to be happy. And I’m angry as hell that a ‘breeder’ would raise and use a dog like Mally and that this is happening all over the country everyday. But, I talked to the trainer and she said this: “Kristi, Mally will never be a ‘normal’ dog. She’ll always be different than what you’re used too because of her early upbringing. Some dogs like her can be ‘saved’ in terms of living a normal life, and some can’t. Based on Mally’s time with you and years of neglect, she most likely is one who will always carry some issues with her.”
L went on to say that her rescue would take her and do their best to rehabilitate her…one of the rescue workers wants a female anyway and would give her a good home. So, I thought and thought about this. All day I kept asking myself what was best for Mally.
Then I realized what I have been doing wrong all these months; instead of that question, I rearranged some words and asked myself this: “What would I want if I were Mally?” And it hit me. I have been Mally in terms of feeling broken and unloved and different and scared and needy. Period. What if ma would have given up on me when I broke down? I wouldn’t be here typing this now. What if my sissy wasn’t there for me when I text her 911 (which is our code for ‘call me now!’) so I can vent and cry and get another perspective on things? What if O didn’t tell me how wonderful a ma I am and how much he loves me? What if my pop didn’t send me sweet texts everyday to let me know how much he cares? What if…what if…what if…?
Mally does need training, and I’m trying the best I can. But I realized that she needs a lot more than that. She needs love. Understanding. Patience. And someone who will look at her and tell her she’s special. I want her to know that no matter what, I’m her ma. Through the good and the bad.
Yes, I’m going to continue to get frustrated and wonder what I’ve gotten myself in to. But last night we were on the couch (watching Bridezillas…thank God I don’t have a daughter to worry about marrying off 🙄) and she looked up at me and I saw a glint in Mally’s eye for the first time. Her eyes didn’t look sad or defeated or empty. They looked like they had some life and love in them. Just like it took me a couple of years to build back up from breaking down, it’s going to be the same with Mally. Will she ever be ‘normal’? To be honest, I really don’t know what the fuck (sorry, ma 😳) that is anymore.
But I do know this. Mally is mine and I’m her mama. I’m going to stick by her and love her and do my best with her. We’re going to journey on our issues together…a bipolar ma with a neurotic pooch and Edward leading the way. And, I think it’s going to be one hell of a ride.
So, y’all know that my Little Dottie has been gone for about a month and I can finally talk about her without crying (most of the time at least). A while ago, my son, his girlfriend and I picked out a puppy from a friend of my pop’s and the little fart will ready for us on April 1st. I’m having a lot of mixed emotions about the pup and just wonder if I’m ready, or even up to this.
After Dottie was gone, Edward moped around the house horribly and has gotten to where he won’t leave my side. It doesn’t matter if I’m eating, pooping (😳), sleeping, cleaning, etc. he’s always there. Eddie is a very ‘needy’ and social creature and it breaks my heart how lonely he is. I know he needs another little friend and I also know he’ll mother the puppy because that’s just how he is. Bill and O are excited too and ma can’t wait to meet her newest fur grandbaby.
But me? I just don’t know.
A huge part of me feels like it’s too soon…like Bill having a date a couple of weeks after burying me (I’d haunt him forever if he did 🙄). I don’t want my Little Dot to think she’s being replaced…no other dog could replace my baby diva. And, I also wonder if my heart is ready to love another puppy and not compare her to who Dottie was.
But then I remember how I felt after Scooter, my first dog, died and how distraught I was then too. B, my hubby at the time (shutty the mouthies, peeps 😐) took me to see some puppies just about a week after Scooter was gone. I wasn’t thrilled. O and B picked out a pup and I held him and all, but felt nothing. No excitement. No love. No want. Since he wasn’t going to be completely weaned for a couple more weeks, I had 14 days to worry about everything…remember, those of us with bipolar are GREAT worriers and ruminators…it’s really at a champion level 🥇. On the Saturday when were getting ready to pick him up, I told B I wasn’t going. I didn’t want too…I wasn’t going too…and if he made me, I’d hate him forever.
So, we left shortly after. O had already named the pup Squirty (a nickname my grandpa called my grandma ♥) and he was excited. We got there, picked up Squirty and made it home. I set up his little crate and playpen, etc. and went about ‘mothering’ him with nothing in my heart. Nada. Zilch. He wasn’t my Scooter and never would be…therefore, I didn’t want him.
Now mind you, I wasn’t bad to him at all…I’m a great nurturer…I can nurture the hell out of any animal or person. But I was just going through the motions…doing what I ‘had’ to do. Finally, we were outside in the middle of the night for him to pee (while B slept peacefully I might add 🙄) and for some reason, he looked up at me and his eyes broke my heart. It’s like he was saying “What’s wrong…why don’t you love me?”
My heart did a quick defrost and Squirty was my buddy ever after. After B and I got divorced, it was decided by B (as was everything else…go figure… 🙄) that Squirty should stay with him in the country and with our German Shepherd who loved him to pieces. So, I ‘lost’ him after just a couple of years.
Then came Dottie and I adored her from the start. O and I were struggling with the divorce and Dottie was our comfort and fun and we could feel playful even with the heaviness our hearts experienced. Because of this, and how Squirty helped me move on from Scooter, my family (and I) thought it would be good for me to get another pup this spring. Hmmmm.
When O, K and I went to pup’s home, there were 3 pups in the litter still not taken: 1 boy and 2 girls. O and K each held one of the girls and I held the little guy. They were adorable and only 4 weeks old…their eyes had just opened and their little faces couldn’t have been any cuter. As much as O and I were liking and cuddling the pups we were holding, we kept glancing at the one K had in her arms. Right as she said: “I feel a really good vibe from this one” O and I looked at each other and nodded. We had actually felt it too.
K handed her over to me and I looked in her little face…she was precious. So, I told Chuck that she was the one we’d take and he literally said this: “Oh! You chose the one with the white dot on her paw!”
Heh? White dot? I hadn’t even looked at her paws but there it was…in a sea of red poodle, there was a perfect white circle on her little paw and I started to cry.
You see, the night before we trekked to the pups a couple of town away, I had asked my Dottie in heaven to ‘give me a sign’ about this. Yes, you can call me crazy (as if that’s never happened before, for fuck sakes…😐) but I believe in the supernatural…the spiritual…the ability to ‘talk’ to my family who are already in heaven with my pets included. I said this: “Dottie, I need you to let me know if this is right…if you’re OK with this.” And I believe that the dot on the paw was sign enough. She was the only pup to have this. We named her Millie Grace (from the Andy Griffith show of which I’m a HUGE aficionado) and were told to be back in a month.
So I feel like I have Dottie’s blessing but am struggling with something else too: Millie Grace isn’t a rescue…she’s from a breeder who is NOT a puppy mill and has a stellar reputation for how he breeds and treats his dogs. I’ve rescued 3 dogs in my life, Edward included, and feel guilty going to a breeder. But I’ve always had a toy poodle in my life and love the breed so much, and there are NO toy poodles to be rescued around this area…I’ve looked and looked. But like my pop said when I voiced this concern, getting MG doesn’t mean I won’t rescue again…I’m sure I will many more times in my life; it does mean that I’m giving a pup a great home though and that’s a wonderful thing no matter what.
Anyhoot, I don’t know how this will all go. Will my heart open to little Millie? Will I compare her to Dottie and not let her be who she is? Will I have the capacity to nurture her like I did Dot? Am I ready for this at all? I hope so.
I’m the type of person who will literally run around a bug on the sidewalk so I don’t squish them…talk to my plants so they don’t feel unloved…dote on Edward like he’s next in the royal lineage. It’s hard for me to think of not being a good ma to Millie but I want it to be genuine. Real. I want to love her and I keep reminding myself that loving Millie doesn’t mean I love Dottie any less. I’ll love my Dot until we’re together again someday.
So here’s the thing Little Dottie: you, my sweetie, were the best dog I’ve ever ever had…the funniest, bitchiest, cutest, and orneriest of all. If I hadn’t loved you so much and miss you so much, I’d never want another. But you showed me the joy a pup gives…the wonder and blessing of having a dog for as long as I had you…the everyday happiness and comfort a dog can give…the sense of fulfillment in terms of being a ‘new’ mommy again. In other words, Millie will never take your place. It’s because of the awesome legacy you left that I want another in my life. I hope you understand and also hope you’ll look down on us from time to time and grin at the antics this one pulls. And Dottie…I’ll keep you in my heart forever. There’s just no where else I’d rather have you.
So, I don’t know about you but February is a notoriously sucky month for me. Holidays are over…snow is coming down…there’s mud and slush everywhere…and you can go days to weeks without seeing the sun. Charmed, I’m sure. However, THIS February sucked balls even more…let me explain.
To start with, I had COVID during the first 2 weeks and was stuck at home in quarantine for 14 days feeling like Typhoid Mary. Bill and I did get along (he had it too and I don’t want to point the finger of blame at anyone for getting it but Bill gave it to me…probably… 😳) only because he has my basement fixed up like a little apartment and we didn’t have to really see each other unless we wanted too. After a few days, we didn’t want too. I know all of you women are nodding your heads right now…and believe you me, I got on my knees and thanked the good Lord above that I was insightful enough to buy a house with a finished freaking basement 15 years ago. Just sayin’.
We were lucky with our symptoms though: fatigue, loss of taste and smell, headaches, some congestion…and that was about it. As I’ve said before, I missed not having the senses but Bill, for some unknown reason, wasn’t as upset. When I asked him why he mumbled a couple of words that sounded like ‘kitchen’, ‘cooking’, and ‘God send.’ I’m really not sure what he meant.
Then, I had to put my sweet Little Dottie down. I’ve had to do this once before and I prepared myself since she was getting so old and I could see my baby failing. But when you actually do it, no amount of preparation can lessen the heartache and pain you feel. Not a minute goes by that I don’t think of my sweetie and I still look for her all of the time. Every night, for 15 years, she slept on my bed and I’m still putting her blankie out every night…I’m not ready to stop that yet.
Y’all might not agree with this but I once read that you might have a lot of dogs over the years, but 1 will always stand out as being ‘that dog’. The one that was just a bit more special to you. The one you connected with a bit more. For me, it was Little Dot. She was with me from the day I moved into my house with O and we were never apart. Her personality was something else: diva + sweetheart + ornery + sassy + adorable. It was quite a combination. I will miss her until the day I die and when I see her, I know she’ll bark her fool head off.
Then, I went in for a ‘procedure’ on Friday and to make a very long story short (but less dramatic 🙄), I need to have a full hysterectomy. Well, fuck me (sorry, ma 😬 ). This is major surgery and I’m scared! My awesome gyno is going to do it laparoscopically (it took me 4 tries to spell that correctly 😐) so the downtime won’t be too bad…just a couple of weeks. I’m going to schedule it, hopefully, on the first day of Spring Break so I can recover a few days before I go back to teaching.
The really fun part is going to be juggling 7 regular classes, a late-start class, healing, mourning, and taking care of my house. But as Hubby 3 used to say (shutty the mouthies 😳), I’m a ‘scrappy thing’ and I’m sure I’ll be OK. (Note to Bill, Ma, Pop, T, and O: I’ll still need a LOT of spoiling… 🤨).
So, ma went with me for my “procedure” (that sounds like such a weird word…old ladies say it with ‘quotation fingers’ because they don’t want to say the real reason because it’s usually gross, like hemmorroids or something; mine wasn’t that ‘gross’ but it’s still not table talk) and I got us lost. NOW HOLD ON A SEC…WE NEED TO WAIT UNTIL MA PICKS HER CHIN UP OFF THE FLOOR SINCE I DIDN’T BLAME HER LIKE I WANTED TOO.
Anyhoot, we had to go to Springfield to get ‘er done and I drove there so ma could drive back when I was groggy and possibly vomiting. Here’s how the conversation went and as you read it, be sure to make your voice very shrill (on ma’s parts), very sweet and patient (on my parts), with the volume increasing with every sentence:
Ma: “Kristi, do you know where we are going?” Me: “Yes, ma…duh. In fact, you made us leave so early we’ll have plenty of time to kill. I know Springfield like the back of my hand.”
45 minutes later:
Me: “Ma, since we’re 40 minutes early, let’s pop into the General ($ General) and I’ll get a magazine to read.” We browsed for 20 minutes before I said, OK…let’s go!
I drove around various roads and kept taking wrong turns (there are too many one way streets there) and even though I had no idea where in hell I was, I DID not want to let ma know that. However, I finally found the building after driving by it countless times, and once I got going the correct way on the one way street, got the car parked, trotted into the building and…wait for it…didn’t see the surgery center listed by the elevators. I go up to a nice young gal and ask her where it is. She said: “It’s downtown…about 6 miles from here.”
Ma was still behind me…I rushed ahead ‘just in case’ something went awry, and when the gal asked me if I needed the address, I said “No! I know where it is!” before ma could hear this exchange. I didn’t know where it was.
When ma asked what was going on I actually said this (don’t judge…you don’t know ma when she’s pissed…right T?): “They moved the surgery center and now it’s downtown.” Ma: “Do you have the address?” Me: “Duh. Of course.” I didn’t.
So, off we go again with 5 minutes left to get back to the car and find this place that magically ‘moved’ overnight. I started down the street I thought was right and was fumbling with my google maps that was screwed up because it was trying to connect to ma’s fucking blue-tooth in her car. As I kept making more wrong turns, she kept getting more pissed off. I said a little prayer, found the place completely by accident, and didn’t have to read the magazine I had bought at the General.
BUT, here’s what’s weird: I had COVID, lost my baby girl, and have to have major surgery all within the span of a month, yet I’m in a manic phase. Bi-polar doesn’t give a hoot about what’s going on in your life. It’s going to do what it wants to do…period. How can you explain that you’re grieving or scared or achy or sad when you just can’t stop moving, doing, etc.? People with bipolar process emotions differently than others. I’m not saying I feel MORE than others, but I am saying what I feel is on a different ‘spectrum’ than others. It’s very very hard for me to process all of this: I’m ‘up’, yet I’m so so sad. I’m ‘up’, yet I’m so so scared. I’m ‘up’, yet I am worrying about how I’m going to do all I need to do while recovering. What a weird thing: it’s like my brain is experiencing this bit of mania (it’s not too bad, but Bill can’t believe all I do in a day) but my heart is experiencing so much else. And, since these 2 things aren’t matching, I feel confused. Kind of lost…even kind of guilty.
Anyways, I hope your February was better than mine and I already know March is going to suck balls. But, by April I’ll be ‘as good as new’ and hopefully have a great summer.
Take care of yourselves, peeps…stay healthy and safe. K?
So, I’ve written about a lot of things in this blog: having bipolar, being sexually abused, being in an abusive relationship, and the list goes on. However, this is the toughest, and shortest, post I’ve had to write so far.
Yesterday, my son and I took our Little Dottie for a Quality of Life exam at our vet. She was almost 15 years old and was blind and deaf. She also was losing control of her bladder and back legs. In other words, she was suffering. After talking with the vet and her examination of Little Dot, O and I made the decision to have her put to sleep. We said our goodbyes, I sang her special song, and she died in my arms.
I don’t know what to feel. When Bill got home last night, I cried louder and harder than I ever have in my life…I made myself sick. I’ve never ever been in my house without her…and the emptiness of it is overwhelming. I see her everywhere.
Maybe people with pets can’t understand this, but she wasn’t a pet to me. She was my baby…my best friend…my comfort…my joy. It’s hard for those of us with mental illness to make real friends and I can honestly say I have only 3 human ones and that includes Bill. So Dottie was my bestie. She didn’t mind my bouts of depression and would lay down with me whenever I needed too. She didn’t care if I was manic…she’d be right along beside me watching me paint and getting drops of it on her back. When I had a mental breakdown, she was there…centering me the best she could. When I cut myself, I would hug her and try to forget the pain. When I attempted suicide and got off my bed to throw up the pills I had taken, Dottie was right by me…her brown eyes telling me I had way too much to live for.
There’s no words that can describe what she did for me, and I hope, with all my heart that I was a good mama to her. I believe in God and I believe he made animals for us to love. I truly know that my Little Dot is in heaven now…in my Grandpa’s arms…bossing everyone around like the diva she was.
Dottie: you were my precious baby and you are now my angel. I will never ever forget you and you will be in my heart forever. Someday, I’ll be making my way to heaven and I know you’ll be right there at the gate…barking at me to hurry up because you want to play fetch. And honey, I’ll do it.
So, I was totally in love with Bill Bixby when I was a little girl. Every time I saw him on TV, particularly in the “Incredible Hulk,” I would envision our wedding and him giving me a smooch at the alter. Sigh. 🙂 For those of us of a certain age (cough cough), we might remember the show he was in called “The Courtship of Eddie’s Father.” Aside from the acting, the theme song was the best part of it!
“People let me tell you ’bout my best friend,
He’s a warm hearted person who’ll love me till the end.
People let me tell you ’bout my best friend,
He’s a one boy cuddly toy, my, my down, my pride and joy…” ~ Harry Nilsson
Well, I actually have an Eddie in my own house, who just happens to be my best friend. I didn’t meet this friend at school or while out and about, but instead, I rescued him 3 years ago this month! And I’m so glad I did!
My little Dottie, a 14 year old toy poodle, is also a best friend of mine. Dottie and I have been through so much together…2 divorces, death, a breakdown, etc. and she has been with me longer than any other dog I’ve had. Now, this is where I say how loving and sweet she is. Right? Well…hmmmm.
Those of us who love Dot, we know her to be a feisty, slightly aloof, fickle, little shit who is mostly out for #1. BUT, her personality is HUGE and I’ve never had a dog as complicated and uniquely ‘her’ as she is. It’s like she’s saying to the world, “Here I am! I’m adorable…accept me for who I am or back off!” I absolutely love her! She actually reminds me of me (in terms of attitude), more than I’d like to admit! Her face melts my heart every single time I look at her, and the thought of losing her makes me choke up so much. Hers my baby.
But now Edward, he’s completely a different type. Poor Eddie’s litter was dumped along a highway when he was just a few weeks old (why in fucks sake don’t people get their dogs neutered and spayed??) and the pups were taken to a shelter in a nearby city. I was on the list for adoption since I had been wanting another dog, and was called in. I was told by the rescue that the vet who gave the pups their first shots was convinced they were ‘chiweenies.’ Chihuahua and Daschaund mixes that would grow up to be about 10-12 pounds or so. This was perfect! Little Dot is 10 pounds and I wanted them to be about the same size. So, I trotted up to the rescue, and Ed was the only pup left. It was pathetic, he was just sitting there, all by himself. After holding him, I decided to adopt, and instead of taking a lot of time with me, the rescue worker had me sign the papers, took my money, and scooted me out the door in minutes flat. Hmmm.
We went to a petshop next, and I picked out he cutest little things for him. Little tees, a little collar, a little leash…I think you get my drift. Next stop was Arby’s where I got my usual roast beef sandwich, and I gave Eddie a couple nibbles since I didn’t know when the last time he ate was. He gobbled them up, and then went for my sandwich, of which he ate half. Then, halfway home, he needed to poop, and to be honest, it was quite impressive. At least half of his body weight.
Anyhoot, got him home, introduced him to Dot (who made it perfectly clear to him who was boss…after all, she is my boss too) and got down to getting to know him. He slept in his little crate (see the theme?) until one morning I went to let him out, and he was hunched over. Hmmm. The crate was, after all, for the SMALL dog I got. So, I trotted off to the store, and bought a medium crate. I was sure there would be a lot of wasted space, but what can you do? They don’t come in half sizes. (Not to self: idea for Shark Tank?). A couple of weeks later, I staggered in after he started to whimper, and again, he was hunched over. What the fuck? Long story short, my Edward is a Rhodesian Ridgeback/Coon Hound mix and weighs a whopping 30 pounds. Yep. Chiweenie my ass. Obviously, the rescue wasn’t REALLY sure of the mix. In fact, in hindsight after being hurried along before I could have 2nd thoughts, and not getting ANY follow-up calls as I was told I would receive, I realized I had most likely been the victim of the old Bait and Switch.
And thank God I had. Edward is not the brightest dog out there (which is really tough since Dottie is smart as a fox!) but he is the most loving, affectionate, needy, sensitive dog I’ve ever had. I got Edward a few months before what was to be my breakdown and I think that was for a reason. Eddie is so much like me. He’s a hugger…a cuddler…a sweet old soul who just wants to give and give and give. He wants to always be by my side…in my lap (did I mention he’s 30 pounds??) leaning against me…putting his cheek against mine. And when I cry? He’s right there to put his head on my shoulder and hug me. Edward asks for nothing from me. Except love. And guess what? I have plenty to give him.
Now, everyone know Dottie is the dog I’ll always remember as being the one who really got under my skin (in a good way!) more than any other dog, but she’s not affectionate. She’ll cuddle. But just for a minute. She’ll allow you to pet her. But just for a minute. She’ll let you rub her little ears. But lets all say it: just for a minute.
And when she’s done, she’ll either walk away in a diva like fashion, or give a little snarl. In fact, Dottie has been kicked out of 3 grooming parlors. Yep. Three. And the woman who has groomed Dottie now for most of her life is tipped by me VERY well for what she has to go through. AND, I told her I would give her half my salary before I’d let her retire. If she ever did, poor little Dot would probably never get groomed again.
Eddie is the opposite. He’s the first dog that gives as much…or actually more…than he receives. Do ya’ll know that the Greeks talked about different categories of love? (Actually, I think there’s a commercial right now that uses that info.). Anyhoot, Eddie is the epitome of agape love. Selfless, unconditional, and given with no agenda. No idea of what might be given in return. Just given for the sake of giving. With Edward, I can vent, cry, hug, and cuddle, knowing he’s there for me and will do all he can to make things better. And he does. He truly does.
I think what it boils down to is this: Ed is the first ‘man’ in my life that has the capacity to give as much as I do. That’s as needy for affection as I am. That wants to fix and help as much as I desire too. Where others see a gangly, dumb(ish), annoying dog, I see my best friend. The one I’ve been waiting for all of my life.