Nov 8, 2013

These two don't know how good they have it. A letter to my dogs....

Dear Crash and Burn,
Ever since I got my first real paycheck and considered myself responsible, I always knew there would be dogs in my life regardless of any spouses, friends, or family.
Bulldogs, to be specific.
But I never would have thought my life would be how it is these days with you two.

You have been forever needy.
Forever #1. My first.
We brought you home and you were exactly the size of a coke can.
Minus your enormous Dumbo ears.
You were so small it looked silly to put you on a leash and actually walk you.
One of my steps equaled 20 of yours.
You slept with me in my bed for the first couple of days.
And I didn't sleep. I just stared at you.
Making sure you were still breathing.
Making sure I didn't roll over onto you.
And then I got over that shit real fast.
Even though you were tiny, we moved you downstairs into a the smallest room we had available.
The bathroom.
It was here that your baby screams wailed throughout the night.
You were tiny and scared.
Bayou begged me to bring you back up with us.
Where it was safe and warm.
And I gave in a couple times, but we cried it out together.
You downstairs.
Me upstairs.
You were our everything.
And you pooped and peed everywhere.
We pee pad trained you from the start, and you never quite got the hang of holding it all the way through the day, huh?
You got all of our attention.
All of the treats. All the bones. All the time.
You were a feisty little shit when it came to clipping your nails and brushing your teeth.
But we had started to late in the game.
And had neutered you too late.
And your anger grew a bit.
Luckily, the cat put you in your place when you were very tiny.
And you respect the Hell out of him.
You had kind of a hard childhood...with your frequent doctor's visits and surgeries.
We made sure to fight for your well being.
Even when the doctor's mixed up your charts and told us you had kidney failure.
And you might not make it through the night.
I got the news on my way home from work.
Stuck on the train, we couldn't travel any faster.
I demanded Bayou stay at the Vet until I got there.
I didn't care if they closed an hour ago.
This could be it!! The last time I was able to hug and squeeze and kiss your face!
I have never driven so fast in my entire life to get to you.
That was the hardest night of my life to date.
There was nothing we could do but wait.
Until the next day, when the doctor's ran more tests.
Then more tests.
You seemed to be perking up slightly.
Maybe they should get more results back?
I showed up an hour before they opened, and sat with you in the tiny cage, wrapped in my arms, with a million tubes coming out of you.
And guess what?
They were wrong.
You were going to be fine!!
Biggest. Relief. of my LIFE.
 We went through these types of medical hurdles for years, it seemed.
Money was no object, and the time I spent researching your ailments was unheard of.
I would do anything.
Our lives became more normal, a tad.
More routine.
And I got the itch.
For another.
We found your "brother" Burn six years later and brought him home.
Man oh man......was I in for a whirl wind.
See, we didn't realize that you didn't get along with male dogs.
You had never been kenneled.
Burn was almost 15 pounds by the time he was 8 weeks old.
Still much smaller than you, but twice as feisty.
His tiny needle teeth made you angry.
And you would fight with him and he would scream.
I broke up some terrible fights between you two.
And got hurt a bit in the process.
At my wits end, 6 months into having the two of you, Bayou and I, for a brief moment, considered giving Burn away for adoption.
It broke my heart to even consider it.
But you two HATED each other!
I was scared one of you would kill the other.
But we stuck it out.
It has been quite a learning experience.

Burn, as nicely as I can put this, you were not the dog we were expecting.
I had pictured a chubby, happy go lucky, wrinkly English Bulldog, who was relatively lazy, and what we got was the complete opposite.
And I thank my stars every day for most of it.
You are rather athletic for a bulldog, and you nose isn't smashed in as much as it should be so you breathe really well.
Crash's snore can be heard across the house, whereas, your grumbles are slight.
We made sure to avoid another dog riddled with anxiety so we crate trained you from the start and threw you into obedience classes.
And you are as stubborn as a mule.
But you did learn a few things.
But your maintenance is barely surpassing that of your brother's.
Your little cute corkscrew tail?
It has become my nightmare.
Every. Damn. Day. It has to be cleaned out to avoid infections.
And that fun little seasonal alopecia you have going on?
I would love you regardless of how you look, but the amount of hair loss in the winter is paramount.
Plus, it took us $500 to confirm that it wasn't terminal.
Hard pill to swallow, but well worth it.
You have no idea how big you are.
I'm sorry to say you are NOT a lap dog, no matter how hard you try.
You can't just keep moving furniture because it's in your way and you are too lazy to walk around.
There will always be another meal.
You don't have to whine and beg and drool when you know it's time.
And for the love of all that's Holy, stop eating so many pears from the tree, and then hiding the remnants in your crate.
It smells.

Speaking of smells.
 You two can really clear a room quickly can't you?
Bayou refers to it as a "loose asshole"....which makes me want to gag, but seriously, what in the Hell is the matter with your colons? 
We feed you the best food available!
I have even catered to the food allergies and went grain free and all that jazz just to make you and your itchy skin happier!

And can we be honest here?
You really need to stop being assholes to each other.
Bayou and I have suffered from enough cuts and scrapes and accidental bites to last us a lifetime.
I get it that you're both Alpha Males.
But Burn, Crash is an old man!
Get out of his damn face!
I know you just want to play, but he is running out of steam, and quite frankly, so are we.
You two can just LOOK at each other and start fighting.
But you haven't out-smarted me.
I can sense when shit is about to hit the fan.
And you better have a damn good excuse for the way you're behaving because Momma doesn't deal with your drama.

Your personalities are polar opposite.
Crash, always skeptical, always on alert, and always giving side eye.
Burn, always ready to play, always goofy, and always hungry.

My life has turned into a revolving door of concern regarding poop, skin treatments, smells, vomit, dog fights, dog hair, drool flung onto the furniture, getting skunked, baby gates to keep the peace, baby gates to keep you off the furniture, 
and enough wine to get through it all.

And I wouldn't change it for the world.
You guys are my everything.
Even if I'm the only one that sees it.

Furball Mama.
Tbag. Out.

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