My day started off with headache and nausea, because I finally remembered this was the first day I was going to go into a therapist’s office. And I got there later than I planned, but at least I made it. It took me three tries to make the phone call for the appointment in the first place, because I kept hanging up, unsure of what I was doing.
So, after a quick call to my best friend, reminding both of us that I was going to do this therapy thing, I high-tailed it over. Of course, my S.B.C. is all happy about it.
I gotta say, I’m not sure what I was expecting. I knew it wasn’t gonna be some weird plush room like in the movies, but it was nice and secluded and lent itself over to a measure of privacy. I was okay with that, because I could say what I wanted and needed.
And in true “me” fashion, I jumped all over the map and just spouted, getting and giving some clarification along the way. I felt drained when I left, all up and down and such, and I didn’t even go full on breakdown or anything. I was matter of fact, weird, and myself.
I suppose that’s worth something. I certainly felt comfortable enough. I thought it’d be more q and a than what I did, but I’m not complaining.
In truth, it felt like I was talking with my S.B.C., but with an accent.
I am still mulling over what we talked about a little bit, goals I need to work on and such (I recorded it in my phone as fast as I could so I wouldn’t forget–the one time I don’t have a notepad on me, go figure). And I had to race across town to get to work on time. So I got me some tension headache meds (I felt tired and out of it) and some multi-flavored tootsie rolls from Walgreens and went in.
It was a weird day because my boss couldn’t be in. I thought she was going to, but then found out on Facebook that her son was in the hospital after getting bitten by their dog. I periodically checked in with her throughout the day to check on schedule changes and things like that (because she’s going out of town for a week–or was–to a conference).
By the end of the night, I got a text saying the kid was okay, but the dog had to go. And she was (perhaps jokingly) asking if I wanted another dog.
I had been thinking about it for some time, another dog for mine to play with and such when bored. Of course, getting a dog that bit someone is tricky and crazy to some people, but from what I understand it was a territorial food issue. This one’s a rescue like mine was, and has it’s quirks.
The longest back-and-forth texting session I’d ever done before went on, and before I knew it, I’d agreed to let the little guy come over and meet my dog to see how it’d go. Their initial meeting wasn’t so pleasant, in that mine was snapping and such, but I think she was just worried and wanted to go meet everybody and I had her on a leash instead. She was just antsy. After a bit of time, the dogs got used to each other, and now their dog is with me.
Funny how one of the things in therapy that I need to work on is “letting myself do what’s best for me.” Perhaps it was impulsive, but when I heard how her older son was crying like crazy that the dog might end up in the pound, that pretty much made me go “let me try.”
I wonder if I’m taking on too much right now: working on the house, working on myself, working on packing and hotel rooms and all that jazz. But I had been wondering about getting another dog to play with mine when I can’t be there, to at least be there together. The pound isn’t going to keep that dog long, and I already know the one thing you don’t do with any dog, even the friendliest ones, is to take away or play around with food in front of them. That never ends well.
I can still see faint scarring from my dachshund when I tried to get a t-bone away from before he broke it into splinters and choked on it–about 20 years ago. The snarl on that otherwise pleasant, loving creature taught me a lot, and drew some blood while creating hideous bruising.
Right now the dog (a retriever mixed with something else, about the size of my heeler-mix) is sniffing around my parrot’s cage, wondering what the heck that green chicken is doing making all that noise.
At least he and my Bessie aren’t being wary around each other much. This one wants to play, but Bessie really doesn’t right now. I just hope I know what I’m doing, and can maybe give some good obedience training skills to make this transition a little easier. They seem to be running and playing a bit now, so I feel a bit better. I wish they could do this outside, but the mosquitoes are horrible right now, and to top it off, this retriever is likely to run right out the door and go looking for other dogs to make friends with.
Guess I oughta get a stake to hitch her to on a long line so he can run free(ish) outside. Wonder how late is too late–he’s about 4 years old.
So, I’m not going to sleep very soon tonight, that’s obvious. Hopefully I can get a ton of work done and catch some “z”s before shift tomorrow…and get some moving done.
Yeah, maybe not the best time, but I can’t quite help that right now… I felt the need to be of help, and hopefully it works out quickly. If not, I’ll let them know and they’ll find a new home for him, because I don’t like the idea of this friendly pup going to the pound.
And that kiddo wouldn’t wanna see it either. That was the clincher. The good thing is if it doesn’t work out so well, I know some people who might like the dog that I can trust to take care of it.
But training’s still a must…and Bessie could use some obedience refreshers, too, anyway!