black_sluggard (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
black_sluggard) wrote2012-11-29 07:13 pm
black_sluggard) wrote2012-11-29 07:13 pm
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(Wtf) So, this is what my past few weeks has been...
This is Honey. She's (guess) part Patterdale Terror [sic], part blink dog and all trouble. A couple of weeks ago, a friend of ours, Pookie, brought her to us. Her owner, an acquaintance of his, had decided to get rid of her and asked Pookie to drop her off at the pound. Pookie loved this little dog, though, she was his pal, so he asked us if we could take her in for a while since he doesn't have a place to stay himself. We're all dog lovers here, so even though we've already got two dogs, are fostering a third, and babysitting a friend's dog on a regular basis, it was hard for us to say no. In the interests of keeping the dogs separated, I agreed to let Honey stay in my room until we could find a place for her.
Point One of why this situation has turned out stressful:
Part A, poor Honey was not a well treated dog. She was kept crated in a single room with her owner, and allowed to shit on the floor. She clearly has abandonment issues, and displays several behaviors which suggest she was physically abused, such as jumping in my lap and shaking after being fed or when watching people eat.
Part B, I am not a good pet owner. I love animals, but I do a poor enough job responsibly managing myself, let alone taking care of another living being. This proved itself numerous times with my last pet, Zoe, who I had gotten in middle school. One of the greatest shames of my life has always been the fact that, while I had her, Zoe was often severely neglected. When she died of cancer a few months back I was pretty determined not to get another pet.
But, of course, the arrangement with Honey was supposed to be temporary...
Point Two: My grandmother.
I love my grandmother. I was kind of worried she might get upset about us fostering another dog when we already had a full house. For the most part, I was trying to keep Honey out from underfoot. Unfortunately, I failed to account for two things:
One, my grandmother's memory is kind of awful, and she mostly stays in her room, so I think she doesn't even remember the other dogs are there.
And two, my grandmother loves little dogs.
Rewind to Thanksgiving, when my grandmother comes home from her visit with my aunt and we have Honey running around. I wind up telling her the little girl's story and my grandmother falls in love.
"Why can't we keep her?"
T_T
So I spent the next two weeks convinced that I was going to have to take care of this dog on a permanent basis.
Point Four: This lead to a lot of stress for me, complete with crying and panic attacks, because I do not want to wind up doing to another animal what I did to Zoe. Especially not a smart little dog like Honey who has already seen so much neglect.
Even before the dog, my anxieties have had a tendency to leave me room-bound because I feel exposed and paranoid. Sometimes I feel like I'm taking up space in my own living room, or that I don't belong there. Since Honey's wound up with me it's gotten worse, because in order to let my parents' little dog, Pinky, run around the house, I have to keep Honey in my room. And little Honey has imprinted on me like a baby duck, follows me everywhere, and cries and cries whenever I'm not around. So if I don't want her crying out like she's being murdered, I kind of have to stay put.
I've told my mother and Adrienne about how I feel having Honey around, and they've both promised to help me shoulder the burden. But this brings me to...
Point Five: Drama. We has it. At the moment, we has it in spades. We have financial issues in my home, and we also have several friends who are homeless or struggling. Adrienne is one of the very few people in our social circle to have a functioning car, and so she is called upon to be the taxi several times every day.
Our friends Lena and Vincent (Boy's family), who are expecting a kid in a month. They have a place, but have been hanging around our home so that Lena has some support. This means Boy is still frequently taking up space in our front yard.
Adrienne's good friend, Marti, is struggling with some hinky relationship issues, and cancer, and trying to take care of her two very young kids all at once. We've wound up hosting her two little ones several times over the past couple of months. Our house is probably the least child-proofed place on the planet, and these kids are hyper as hell and like to wander. Every time they visit, I not only feel justified in my decision to never have kids, but contemplating a preventative hysterectomy in case I ever stupidly change my mind.
Calling attention back to our dog situation, the math is not good. Five dogs, three of whom are needy, two of whom are poorly socialized, one of which is very aggressive around strangers. Two very small kids, who want to pet all the animals. Lots and lots of fucking stress. Eight adult residents, any of which might decide they have a beef with someone else. Two adult guests. My dad who, since his stroke, isn't always sure he knows what is going on around the house or if he's being told the truth about everything, and does not handle stress well. At all.
So. It's basically the definition of a fucking madhouse.
Consequence of which, even though I was brutally honest about all the reasons I did not ever want another pet and everyone told me they would help out with Honey, I really haven't been seeing much of that.
Point Six, neglect makes for poor house-guests.
Honey's previous owner allowed her to leave her mess all over the room in which she was kept. She is therefore not housebroken. Because we can't just let her run in the front yard with Boy or the back yard with Pinky and Gaia, I have to take her out at least three times a day in order to just make sure she not shit in my room. This frequently means that, if I don't want to clean up a mess, I have to get up when Honey decides it is time to get up, and terriers have a lot of energy. She also has a tendency to wake up if she hears Marti's kids, or if Pookie has come to visit, and she cries at the door until she is allowed to tear around the house and say hi.
This does not fit my normal nocturnal schedule.
At least I don't have carpet in my room. That makes things easier if I can't drag myself out of bed that early. But it's not doing Honey any favors.
Point Seven: A near-escape.
On the subject of my grandmother's poor memory, every morning, when I go in to do my grandmother's medication (and ignore Honey's cries as I do so, *sigh*), she asks if we still have that little dog. I think she may have forgotten that she had said she wanted to keep her. While I was doing my little dance at this idea, thinking of how nice it will be when we find her a good home, Adrienne chose to share this with my dad in hopes of making him feel a little better about it...
Point One of why this situation has turned out stressful:
Part A, poor Honey was not a well treated dog. She was kept crated in a single room with her owner, and allowed to shit on the floor. She clearly has abandonment issues, and displays several behaviors which suggest she was physically abused, such as jumping in my lap and shaking after being fed or when watching people eat.
Part B, I am not a good pet owner. I love animals, but I do a poor enough job responsibly managing myself, let alone taking care of another living being. This proved itself numerous times with my last pet, Zoe, who I had gotten in middle school. One of the greatest shames of my life has always been the fact that, while I had her, Zoe was often severely neglected. When she died of cancer a few months back I was pretty determined not to get another pet.
But, of course, the arrangement with Honey was supposed to be temporary...
Point Two: My grandmother.
I love my grandmother. I was kind of worried she might get upset about us fostering another dog when we already had a full house. For the most part, I was trying to keep Honey out from underfoot. Unfortunately, I failed to account for two things:
One, my grandmother's memory is kind of awful, and she mostly stays in her room, so I think she doesn't even remember the other dogs are there.
And two, my grandmother loves little dogs.
Rewind to Thanksgiving, when my grandmother comes home from her visit with my aunt and we have Honey running around. I wind up telling her the little girl's story and my grandmother falls in love.
"Why can't we keep her?"
T_T
So I spent the next two weeks convinced that I was going to have to take care of this dog on a permanent basis.
Point Four: This lead to a lot of stress for me, complete with crying and panic attacks, because I do not want to wind up doing to another animal what I did to Zoe. Especially not a smart little dog like Honey who has already seen so much neglect.
Even before the dog, my anxieties have had a tendency to leave me room-bound because I feel exposed and paranoid. Sometimes I feel like I'm taking up space in my own living room, or that I don't belong there. Since Honey's wound up with me it's gotten worse, because in order to let my parents' little dog, Pinky, run around the house, I have to keep Honey in my room. And little Honey has imprinted on me like a baby duck, follows me everywhere, and cries and cries whenever I'm not around. So if I don't want her crying out like she's being murdered, I kind of have to stay put.
I've told my mother and Adrienne about how I feel having Honey around, and they've both promised to help me shoulder the burden. But this brings me to...
Point Five: Drama. We has it. At the moment, we has it in spades. We have financial issues in my home, and we also have several friends who are homeless or struggling. Adrienne is one of the very few people in our social circle to have a functioning car, and so she is called upon to be the taxi several times every day.
Our friends Lena and Vincent (Boy's family), who are expecting a kid in a month. They have a place, but have been hanging around our home so that Lena has some support. This means Boy is still frequently taking up space in our front yard.
Adrienne's good friend, Marti, is struggling with some hinky relationship issues, and cancer, and trying to take care of her two very young kids all at once. We've wound up hosting her two little ones several times over the past couple of months. Our house is probably the least child-proofed place on the planet, and these kids are hyper as hell and like to wander. Every time they visit, I not only feel justified in my decision to never have kids, but contemplating a preventative hysterectomy in case I ever stupidly change my mind.
Calling attention back to our dog situation, the math is not good. Five dogs, three of whom are needy, two of whom are poorly socialized, one of which is very aggressive around strangers. Two very small kids, who want to pet all the animals. Lots and lots of fucking stress. Eight adult residents, any of which might decide they have a beef with someone else. Two adult guests. My dad who, since his stroke, isn't always sure he knows what is going on around the house or if he's being told the truth about everything, and does not handle stress well. At all.
So. It's basically the definition of a fucking madhouse.
Consequence of which, even though I was brutally honest about all the reasons I did not ever want another pet and everyone told me they would help out with Honey, I really haven't been seeing much of that.
Point Six, neglect makes for poor house-guests.
Honey's previous owner allowed her to leave her mess all over the room in which she was kept. She is therefore not housebroken. Because we can't just let her run in the front yard with Boy or the back yard with Pinky and Gaia, I have to take her out at least three times a day in order to just make sure she not shit in my room. This frequently means that, if I don't want to clean up a mess, I have to get up when Honey decides it is time to get up, and terriers have a lot of energy. She also has a tendency to wake up if she hears Marti's kids, or if Pookie has come to visit, and she cries at the door until she is allowed to tear around the house and say hi.
This does not fit my normal nocturnal schedule.
At least I don't have carpet in my room. That makes things easier if I can't drag myself out of bed that early. But it's not doing Honey any favors.
Point Seven: A near-escape.
On the subject of my grandmother's poor memory, every morning, when I go in to do my grandmother's medication (and ignore Honey's cries as I do so, *sigh*), she asks if we still have that little dog. I think she may have forgotten that she had said she wanted to keep her. While I was doing my little dance at this idea, thinking of how nice it will be when we find her a good home, Adrienne chose to share this with my dad in hopes of making him feel a little better about it...
...fucking Honey.
She's gone and charmed my dad. I might just be completely doomed.
Point Eight: This little dog is far too smart for her own good.
After one night of letting her sleep in my bed with me instead of in a crate, she decided I was her hero. Within two days, she had learned to panic when I put my slippers on, because it meant I was leaving the room. By the third day, I had at least managed to teach her "sit" (which she often interprets as "lay down", but as long as she chills, I'm not going to be fucking picky). She has learned that "monkey" means she should go grab the tiny stuffed toy we gave her (a little green Neopets monkey). Not the ball she popped, but the monkey, specifically. She has learned that when I start putting my socks on, it means walkies, and she jumps on my lap and squirms around, and bites my fingers while I try to tie my shoes. She has learned that when my grandmother rings her bell I have to get up to see what she needs, so Honey jumps up on my chest and sits down like she can hold me in place.
On the one hand, she's picking up leash manners pretty nicely. On the other, she's a fucking brat.
(She looks all vicious and nasty in that pic on the right, but she has excellent bite inhibition. She can gnaw on my hand all say and never hurt me.)
In Summary: All that said, while she still needs a lot of work, Honey is a great, smart, fucking adorable little dog, and I know one day she will be a great pet for someone. That person just can't be me.
I just look forward to a little more help getting her there.
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