Between Thanksgiving and Christmas, we had to put Katie our little Chihuahua to sleep. It was a better place for her. It broke my heart, and I still can't go out to the little grave in our backyard where Von buried her. I feel so guilty, but in reality I know that she is out of pain and misery.
In the eight years plus, that we had Kate ... she was never really happy or healthy. She was allergic to grass, her hair fell out, she had red, raw and irritated skin for months at a time, and she had one half of a tooth. She wouldn't eat dog food, and she would dehydrate. She weighed less than three pounds and looked emaciated. I had to give her steroids shots, fluids under her skin and grind her food (hot dogs is all that she would eat). I had to bathe her every other day and spray medicine on her body. In the end, she lost control of her bowels, had diarrhea and would pee everywhere. She was miserable, and hurting. I kept her here longer than I should have because I was selfish ... and because I loved her.
THEN Christmas came, and I had puppy fever. I thought it would heal my heart a bit ... and it did. He did. His name is Gus, and he's a real turd. He has the energy of a steam engine and is shiny and fat and feels like velvet. He is marked like Katie, and that is probably what drew me to him ... that and the fact that Juli had just gotten a "Ty" just like him. Not only did I just get a Gus ... I persuaded the cuteness onto Josh and Jessie. They now have a chewing, biting and pooping "Snickers" for my Grandkids. But OH what glorious pleasure I got out their faces on Christmas day!
Being that I'm kinda OCD and majorly impulsive, I made a decision to get a puppy for the kids ... against my husbands firm "NO." I justified it that first of all ... all kids need and deserve to grow up with a puppy. Secondly, I am my own woman and can think for myself. I'm a grown working woman and can make my own decisions. I've raised children and can make life and death decisions, and being that this is 2010, a husband certainly has no right to tell me NO.
Now on the other hand, I forgot that I'm old. Having a puppy is like having a houseful of little kids, but even worse. He chews us up with his long little snout and alligator teeth and doesn't have a clue what the word NO means. He has short man syndrome. He sleeps on my side of the bed and I hold him down and whisper in his ear how much I love him ... or he'll persistently howl until I pick him up. He never crosses the middle line, at least while I'm awake. He's not loved on the other side of the bed.
We are living back in the throes of baby gates again trying to keep him corralled. My kids love him ... I love him ... but his Father is still mad at me, and most likely will be for the next 48 years. He doesn't give in easy ... especially when he steps in puppy poop at 4:30AM. When he does, I just hug Gus a bit tighter in bed and put my hands over his ears when I hear Von cuss. I certainly don't want Gus to grow up thinking that he's not loved!