I should be sewing for etsy right now. I was just getting back in the groove and then Chief got the stomach virus and that has taken all my time. But he’s better, so I should be sewing now. But I’m not. Because oh goodness y’all. I’ve got a pet problem.
It’s Pepper. Of course it’s Pepper. She has started going after the other dogs, mostly Bubba. Tonight they had a bad fight in the kitchen that Chief had to break up, which ended in him scruffing her and putting her outside as she’s trying to bite him.
The dog is on Prozac already for anxiety. I recognized that my pregnancy was taking some sort of toll on her last spring, so we talked to the vet last year and he put her on fluoxetine, 20 mg a day. And it’s worked fairly well, but lately this crap has started creeping back in. The vet had wanted me to try and see if she could live without it, but it’s clear that she can’t.
But lately it’s just getting worse, and I’m faced with a bunch of options that probably aren’t really options.
1. Get Chief’s parents to take her back. She’s not really our dog. We were only supposed to take care of her temporarily while they were living in an apartment. Well they’ve had a house for two years now and we still have this dog. I’ve had her for five years, and they don’t pay any of her bills either. I’ve just sort of accepted it because we asked once years ago if they were going to take her back and Chief’s dad said to “take the damn dog to the pound if you don’t want her.” Uh, no. No sir. That’s not my style and I can’t do it. But I’m hoping that if Chief presents it as “Librarian won’t take her to the pound and she’s a risk to your granddaughter that you claim to love so much” that they’ll take her back. They have a dog that she lived with successfully for years, and a nice big yard and for that matter, a pool that she could swim in in the summer. This option is the best one to me.
2. Talk to the vet about upping her dosage. From what I’ve researched she could probably do 4o mg a day. My goal would be for her to live in a situation that didn’t stress her out to the point of needing fluoxetine, but if she stays with me that just isn’t the reality apparently. She was fine until I was pregnant, and then she just couldn’t take the change and apparently still can’t.
3. Keep her separated from the other animals and people. I hate this option. I hate it so much because it’s not nice. I barely see it as a step above the shelter. I’m not talking about just leaving her outside all the time because that’s cruel, especially in our state where the temperatures are extreme at times, but I do have this big downstairs area that’s like a garage, and it has a dog door into the yard. This is the absolute last resort option because I can’t stand it. If we had to go with this option I would probably look at fostering her through a rescue group until she could find a better home, and that would be a home without other dogs or kids-because THOSE are so easy to find. But I don’t want to be that lady who gets rid of a pet for a baby. I really, really don’t.
I feel awful considering any of this. Despite what it sounds like, I really do love her. She’s an incredibly sweet dog with some kind of terrible anxiety issues, and I get that because I have them too. I just don’t want it to ever get to the point where she actually bites a person because then that’s like an instant “THIS DOG HAS TO BE PUT DOWN” button. I will do everything I can to avoid that.
I’ve also got some momma drama going on. And honestly I always sort of do. Since Charlie was born there’s been this underlying tension between me and my mom. She wants to be involved in everything. She wants to see her three or four times a week. The problem with this is multifacted:
1.) I am very independent and have been since I was a child, a condition that became necessary at an early age due to my difficult home relationship with my mom and sister.
2.) I’m also a homebody and I like my home. I like going out, but then I like coming back, and if I have to be out multiple nights in a row it starts to wear on me, and I’ve noticed Charlie is the same way.
3.) Charlie has been a pretty easy baby and I haven’t needed a ton of outside help. Also, everything my mom did with us is now considered dangerous or just something I’m not going to do if I don’t have to, i.e. putting her to sleep on her stomach (she would hate that anyway), formula feeding (no hate whatsoever, but we are lucky to be able to nurse).
Anyway. We’re having family dinner on Sunday with my grandmother and aunts and uncles. We do this weekly. It’s not usually on Sunday but it is this week. My mom got her nose bent out of shape about this because apparently she wanted to have us over along with my sister and her husband. So she texted both of us and said she wanted us to come on Saturday since we can’t on Sunday. I could have lied and said I had plans and I considered, but then I remembered I am a GROWN. ASS. WOMAN. and I just said honestly that with us going out on Sunday night I would rather stay home on Saturday, and I also have a funeral to go to on Saturday (my best friend C’s little brother died-he was only 17 and it’s completely fucking awful and tragic and deserves more than this after thought mention but honestly I can barely talk about it because I am so broken hearted for C and her mother and the whole damn family) that is going to leave me pretty emotionally spent. So I just sent that in the text. My sister texted back that she was available but she completely understood why I didn’t want to come (sometimes she doesn’t suck. sometimes).
But nothing from my mother. Radio. Silence. No “Oh, I understand.” Or “I didn’t realize the funeral was that day.” Nothing. Nothing at all.
So she’s pissed and I’m so tired of it. She’s like this all the time. She see’s us at least once a week and it’s not enough for her. And I don’t know what to do. I have to balance seeing my dad in there somehow, and the rest of the family, and then I have to work and try to keep my LIFE together. I don’t know what she wants from me, but it’s unreasonable. A few weeks ago she even sent me a text saying that Florence and the Machine were coming to the next state over and didn’t I want to go? Ummm… no. I love them, but I hate going to concerts and I’m not leaving the baby overnight right now. She’s still nursing for fuck sake, and while I know it would be doable with pumping, why would I unless I had to? But again, I hate going to concerts. Because people. I told her that, and she said. “Oh, well if you go we’ll watch the baby.” Yes, I get it. I really do. But no. And the more she pushes me about it, the more I resist and don’t want to let her ever babysit.
So that’s Wednesday. And now my baby is awake for the fourth time in as many hours with teething pain, screaming her head off, so I have to go.