Friday, September 7, 2012

Dog Days

I really wanted this to be my attempt at being positive, but I have a feeling that I will fail epically given my mood.

I am happy here, and truly foresee my bumps in the road as a raging battle I’ve engaged in since the day I began calling myself “Christian.” But perhaps it’s been worse as of late. We are happy in our house, with our roommates, and are just so impressed that our children are as well adjusted as they have been. I love Bethel, and my heart is full worshipping and learning there.



Here is what has brought much heaviness to my heart: Rush. My beloved yellow lab. If you know me, you know I love Rush. I love being covered in his scratchy hair, and it’s not like I don’t vacuum on purpose, but honestly, I don’t care that there is dog hair in my carpet because to me that means it is a happy home. I joke that his hair is the secret ingredient to my best food dishes. Not funny, I know. We adopted him three years ago, 30 pounds underweight (ok…more like 20, now he’s just 10 over!). He used to have separation anxiety so severe that if Paul and I left the house, he would have diarrhea all over the house. So we moved him outside where he proceeded to crawl over or under kennels, break nylon harnesses, break leather collars, and if he were free, follow us for miles running full speed down the road. It was hell, truly. I would think, “Are we crazy? Our dog runs our life!” I knew it was crazy, but we loved him and little by little we would see progress. He loved us, slowly made his way from sleeping in the bathtub to sleeping in between Paul and I. He loved our kids and tolerated all sorts of abuse. He still does! After two years he moved past his separation anxiety, slowly and certainly, it happened. Life just sort of become simple and sweet, with Rush as our family dog. We would leave and hook him up to a 20 ft cable outside the door. We took him on walks almost every day in Mi-Wuk.


 
Now don’t think he didn’t bring any frustration to our lives. He hates cats, in fact, will brutally murder them if given the chance. He barks, and we’ve since trained him with a collar because we have young children and I do not tolerate naptime interruptions. He likes to escape on the rare occasion and though there is no doubt in my mind he knows his name, I call him endlessly and he trots away like I am some desert mirage who can do nothing about his escape. He is right, at least that I cannot do anything when he makes up his mind to do something naughty.

 
But I love him. I love him so much because he used to be crazy and now he’s sort of normal, and because he used to not love anybody or trust anybody but he actually trusts me (You know, except when a car is coming, and I am crying and frantically screaming “RUUUUUSH, COOOOOME!”)
I am so grateful our roommates let us keep our dogs! I’ve said it a hundred times, when I agreed to come to Redding I just did not want to give my dog up. I told the Lord I would give up anything, but it was my petition, “Please don’t make me get rid of Rush.” And He didn’t. It was a confirmation to me of His continued goodness.

The couple we moved in with has two dogs, a 12 year old terrier, George, and a spunky little terrier type dog who is young, Sparky. It’s true, I’ve known that Rush has in the past had dominance issues with other dogs though I’ve never seen him go for a little dog. I did not think we would have an issue here. But it happened several days after we arrived, we found out that George has the “dominance” thing going on, and before we knew it there was a dog fight ensuing. Fortunately Paul was around and could pull Rush right off. So we’ve been extra careful, leaving Rush on a leash while he’s in the house, having him and George take turns in the house (George gets locked up in his parent’s room that has a doggy door to the fenced backyard). The problem is, both dogs would like to be sleeping in the living room for most of the day. Both Mommys (Eron and I) have admitted to spoiling our canines! Rush does not want to be tied up all day. George does not want to be in the bedroom all day. So pregnant little me has been hauling Rush in, and then out, and then in, and then out for days. Paul was at work the other night and all of us housemates were sort of doing our own thing as the night got later. Howard, who is wheelchair bound, needed help getting the sliding door open from the backyard and he knocked, sending Rush, Sparky, and Regan into the dining room to see what was going on. They were happy to see him. Rush was out because George was taking his room time….only he had gone out into the backyard and as soon as Howard got the door open George squeezed his way through. Upon seeing Rush, the hairs on his back went up and Rush attacked, full on. I am pretty sure George immediately submitted, he was just yelping and screaming for relief but Rush would not relent. I remember very little details about this, other than I know I grabbed Rush’s collar, pulled as hard as I could and had not the strength to save George. I was screaming, and Rush was pulling me all over the linoleum. At what point, he spun in a circle so fast he knocked me off my feet and hard onto my bum. I jumped up to grab him again, where he proceeded to drag me through the kitchen in pursuit of George and then pulled me down the hallway, as in, dragged me off of my feet yet again (hello carpet burn…), all while literally having George in his mouth. The dogs moved into the office where I backed away because I did not want to watch my dog kill another dog! I ran into the kitchen remembering that Rush has always been swayed by food. I grabbed what we had for dinner (stuffed cabbage rolls, *sniff sniff* took me like an hour and a half to make those…), and ran to the office where I stuck them right under Rush’s nose and he quickly left the fight and followed me to the bathroom, where I shut the door and collapsed. I am pretty sure at this point I was going into some mild form of shock.

Not fun. Incredibly traumatic. George was fine, like literally suffered a puncture wound or two in one of his legs. Either George survived by the grace of God, or Rush wasn’t meaning to kill him. I certainly couldn’t tell the difference! We are really trying to make this housing situation work because we are happy here. We love our housemates, and we love this house. I love having help from Eron Marie, I am seriously so blessed. And the only reason we are having trouble making this work is because of my stupid dog.

I am not looking for advice, I am sure the logical thing is to get rid of the dog. I know that makes sense to everyone but me. I don’t know how to even get my heart there. He has never even tried to harm Paul or I, or the kids. Not even close. He has seriously been the perfect family dog. I don't have a family album that he isn't a part of as much as the kids.

Howard and Eron have not asked us to get rid of Rush, and in fact, we are all working together to try to find a solution. Today Paul and I purchased a simple dog run for the backyard so maybe Rush would have a tie out in the front yard, and somewhere to run in the backyard (without being tied he scratches the door to come in). But tonight he went on it for the first time and spent the entire time in a nervous fit, crying and pulling to the point of choking himself. He won’t drink water even if he has it in front of him. But it was George’s turn to be out in the house. It’s been so hard on my heart. Not to mention I woke up this morning feeling like I had been in a fight! Every muscle in my body ached, especially my hips that are trying to hold a baby up. For the last five hours I have been counting contractions because they will not seem to slow down. Consistent, but not intensifying so I have opted out of going to the hospital just for peace of mind. All that to say, I love my dog. He is not worth all this crap, but I can’t help but to love that dysfunctional guy because we’ve been through so much together.


I am sure that was the longest prayer request ever. Then, today a friend of the neighbor guy across the street backed into Paul’s parked car. Left a big dent in the passenger door. What do you do? It’s a 1990 Subaru, it has seen better days. I’m pretty sure the window on that side doesn’t even roll up. But that doesn’t mean that we aren’t grateful for our car! It’s such a loyal, quality vehicle. I gave the guy grace, told him that we probably wouldn’t take it to a body shop. We’re planning on keeping it until it drops anyway, but then he was like, “truthfully I wasn’t watching where I was going…but anyway, it’s not like it was a new car, I’d be more concerned if it was new.”

  ….But it’s still our car. No use in getting angry, it just piled something else on my plate today. On top of Paul telling me that I was a super pain in the butt this morning because I just can’t stop snapping at him. I hate pregnancy hormones, in fact there is a chance those intruders are making all of this worse than it actually is.

Well, except the Rush thing. We seriously need a solution and some wisdom from above.

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