Wednesday, July 27, 2016

Dog People

My puppy is a year old now. I love him but I can't control his wild instincts. I am not a dog person.

Dog people like to have command over something. They like to be in control. They are at the top of the food chain and want a pet who understands that truth.  OBEY ME NOW! I AM THE PACK LEADER! They say dog people are more "successful" in life than cat people. Probably true. (If you gauge success by money and position).

I am a cat person. I know I am NOT in charge. I speak to my pets with low and soft and soothing tones. I like to co-exist, peacefully. I like things quiet. I want to be loved but I have no need to lord my dominance over something. I have had 2 open-heart surgeries and I can't muster up the power to be forceful with my dog. Every time I have to raise my voice, it feels like I am damaging my soul. This has become a problem.

A couple of nights ago, I was rudely awakened by my dog, Baxter, barking so loud it made my ears ring. I knew there must be a rabbit or some other prey close by. He wouldn't stop the noise, despite my chastising. This went on for at least a half an hour, probably more, until I finally let him outside. For hours, I could hear his angry screams all over the property. Whatever he was hunting was not slowing down and he was determined to catch it. I didn't get back to sleep.

The next day I was greeted by the frustrated and sleepy face of the woman next door, who also did not get back to sleep, once Baxter started his hunt. I learned that the garbage cans had been toppled over which only means one thing out here. The BEAR is back.

My dog was chasing a BEAR. A gigantic predator with 4-inch claws. My 45 pound Chihuahua, German Shepherd, Chow and Collie mix spent the night protecting "his" property from something that could easily turn around and end his life with one swipe.

Today, I'm driving out to the mesa to meet with a dog trainer for my disciplinary last resort - a shock collar. the "Mini Educator 300" with a 1/2 mile range. It sounds like some kind of kinky S&M device. I am encouraged by the stories of a dog-loving friend who used it to control her beloved pooch. She said it only took a couple times before her pet stopped chasing birds. There was no trace of remorse or guilt in her voice. (I doubt dog people feel much guilt or remorse about discipline). I pray it works.


Sunday, July 03, 2016

Inch By Inch

I practically crawled up the big hill behind my apartment today. Inch by inch, cross step by step. Sitting for a few minutes and then back at it again. Even my dog, Baxter, needed to rest a couple of times. The thought crossed my mind tonight that my father never ever exercized. Probably died partially because of it. My mother stopped exercising when she retired from that sit-down office job she held for decades. She lived until she turned 80. Suppose that is a normal age - well, it is for my family. Her mother died at 80 and my father's father left this world at the same age. Both of them always looked after their health. So, in the end, maybe it doesn't matter.

Mother passed away April 29th. I was with her for the last 4 days of her life, taking the overnight shift as caregiver. When she first saw me, she gazed at me with loving eyes I never saw while she was healthy. She looked at me like I was the most precious, treasured gift she could have received. She said "Anne Louise, I love you So Much." and held my hand. This was the greatest gift I could have gotten from her. My only regret is that during that last caregiving shift, I don't think I was able to get her head and neck at a comfortable angle and may have caused her breathing to be even more labored. She died of congestive heart failure and during the last days, she had a very rattling, labored breath. It sounded like blowing into a straw in a glass of water. I was asleep when she left. My sister told me the news.

Because mother converted back to Catholicism, my sister, Linda, who spent the past 3 years with her, honored her wishes by having a funeral mass at her church. What a horrible, painful thing. I don't believe there is a worse place than the Catholic church. A fetishized, controlling organization. When the priest came over to discuss the service, I asked him if he'd like a few details about mother to personalize the service. Father Quinlin, of Holy Name of Jesus Church in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania then said to me, "I'm not here to be your best friend". Seriously. What a complete asshole. When I walked him out to his car, there was a mallard duck on mother's rooftop quacking loudly at him. I like to think mother was inside of that duck and was disgusted by his dogmatic smugness. The priest then made the decision to deliver the entire service to a potted forsythia bush immediately to his left (probably because we offspring weren't catholic - again, one heck of a religion. But, the mass turned out OK in the end because our beautiful high school friend, Jill, sang. Her angelic soprano calmed me down and nearly opened my heart. However, my heart has never been able to fully open up in a church. Houses of worship usually make me very angry - especially catholic.

I have not felt my mother's presence since she died. I have not been visited by her ghost. I have, however, nearly adopted her poor eating habits. Well, I've eaten a lot of chocolate since April 29th - partly because my sister made the request "In lieu of flowers, please send chocolate". And her friends really responded - that box of confections from Richmond, VA was my favorite. The beautifully decorated treats from Santa Fe came in second. Once I got home I indulged myself more than I used to. Anyway, I set up my annual medical check up and they tested my sugar - much to my surprise. The number was pretty high. Not pre-diabetic, but close. So, I'm stopping the chocolate again and watching the carbohydrates. And trying to motivate myself again, to exercise. Inch by inch.