Life With Bon: Day 5Posted: October 26, 2011
Anyone got a Valium. A-n-y-o-n-e?
To say I am tired is like soooooo inaccurate. There are places on my body that ache that I wasn’t even aware were there. Previous injuries I’ve had to my neck, back, ankles, wrists; these slight pains I always deal with are aggravated and like healing wounds reopened. This is life with our new puppy.
He finally sleeps. I’m finding myself doing this at intervals this morning when he does. It’s not that he doesn’t sleep, or even that he doesn’t do it often, because he does; It’s that he only does it for fifteen minutes at a time! Is this freaking normal, or is he a Hell-Dog?
The Old Man and I made an agreement before getting a new dog that THIS TIME he was going to actually participate in raising/training him. Know what? HE LIED! He is finding the most ingenius ways to get out of dealing with the hard part.
(Yeah….see….the little monster is awake again. What’d I tell ya!)
Where was I? Oh yeah…..
We made the agreement that this time he was going to help raise/train the new puppy. The reason we made this agreement, and I stressed this requirement before purchasing a puppy, is because the last time (Sully) he did na-da! No r-e-a-l-l-y… NA-DA! We got Sully in September of that year. He was a BIG puppy and grew by leaps and bounds. I spent all my time chasing him, on my knees playing with him on the floor, bending over taking things away from him and cleaning up his mess; continually picking him up and taking him out when he got in trouble. I have a bad back. It started acting up. The Old Man only wanted to play with Sully for a bit when he got home, but didn’t want the tedious task that comes with consistent training. I started complaining. He did less. I threw my back completely out and was laid up with a pinched Sciatica nerve by the first week of December. I shit you not when I tell you I was laid up for several months. No exaggeration! I found out a pinched Sciactica can range from slightly painful, to completely debilitating where you can’t move out of a certain position or it will cause excruciating, unbearable pain. I’ve had three children–two that were over eight pounds–with nothing for pain other than a local. I know pain people and can handle it. I’d rather give birth than deal with that shit again! So knowing this now you can understand why I was so adamant about his helping me this time. Yeah….uh-huh…
I’d forgotten…let me stress this word FORGOTTEN…what this was like. My husband, on the other hand, has never known what it’s like, so because he’s none the wiser has no idea why I’m tired. Really? You see, when he gets home he takes the puppy for a walk down the l-o-n-g drive to check the mail, then through the l-a-r-g-e backyard to visit with Sully for a bit, lets him chase around the cats for a while, so by the time he gets in the house the puppy is pooped and lays down. Quite the little angel…
Once inside, with the puppy sleeping, the Old Man eats his dinner then sits at the computer. The puppy wakes. Well, the Old Man is busy so I take him out. Bring him back in, yell at the Old Man to spend time with him, he sits on the floor for a bit, wears him out, the puppy gets pooped, lays down to nap for a few, and the Old Man gets back on the computer or begins something else that distracts him. When the puppy wakes he’ll get up, take him out, then guess who he hands him to because he’s busy with something? I might add the puppy is a performer and creates the facade that he’s a ‘good’ little puppy in the evening. I don’t know if the bastard is smart and wants to make me look bad, or because he’s just plum tuckered out from driving me nuts all day. Whereas he understands completely what his appropriate toys to play with and chew are in the evening….
and only occasionally picks up something else…
This is what he chews when he’s alone with me.
And in case anyone is confused to how much damage that can do, you have to see how aggressive he is with his rope.
Far from the little ‘sweetie’, huh?
And of course that is the least of it, because training him is a chore in itself. The moment I let him out to do his job cats come from every direction and distract him from his work.
Of course, I really don’t know what’s worse…cleaning up piss or dealing with cats that molest you every time you walk out the door and try to climb your clothes with their claws. Him tearing up everything and anything, or the annoying sound of his squeek toy (appropriate) that he’s learning to compose music with. This reminds me of when my older sister and brother-in-law bought my first child (Jud) one of those toys that you push across the floor and it ‘pops. They gave it to him and had this almost maniacal laugh spill forth as they walked out the door. I was soon to learn why. The fucking toy is a nightmare and my son popped the shit out of it! Way to pay me back for being a brat when I was little.
Anyway, Pissy is getting through it cause she’s one tough pussy, but I have a feeling this one is going to leave some battle scars. I haven’t figured out yet if he’s just worse than Sully was, or I’m just older and not quite as capable of handling him as I did the other. The Old Man, of course, is oblivious to this. Last night he snapped this picture of me and the boys doing what he called ‘bonding’.
His assumption wasn’t quite accurate.
Again….Anyone have a V-A-L-I-U-M?