Therapy Dogs Are Everywhere

I'm having a really difficult week.  I'm still recovering from a flu (this is week 3). There's been a heat-wave, which is never good news. Something horrible happened to my back yesterday and there have been muscle spasms going on for the last 36 hours or so that make it difficult to walk and breathe. Sitting hurts. Standing is exhausting, plus there's the worry of falling down due to the feeling of muscle weakness. Laying down hurts. My boss has been extra difficult lately.

I'm just really, really tired lately. Tonight I didn't even go to the library! Normally I go every Wednesday night, because it's the only night during the week they're open late.

Today I'd agreed that I would take the earlier lunch hour rather than the later one I prefer, as a favor to the Office Manager. He was going to a Thing, and wanted to take an extra-long lunch to attend it. So at noon I hobbled off to lunch.

Because of all my back problems I decided to go nearby to a little Japanese place for lunch. Got the food. Sat down. Promptly had soup go down the wrong pipe. Did that choking cough you do when that happens. Over and over. People looked. So I tried to stop. Except, I was still choking. Then, all in the same moment, three things happened. I was choking, suddenly about to throw up, and realized I was over-heating.

I had to get the hell out of there, immediately. Looked at my not-quite-half-eaten food. Looked at the long line at the register. Made the decision to let it go, and just throw it out - no time to wait in line to ask for to-go stuff. Apparently I was feeling worse than I realized, and weaker too, because when I tipped the tray into the trash can for all the food to slide in, I lost my grip on that tray and it slid right in also.

My first instinct was to plunge an arm in there and haul that tray out. That's the proper thing to do, right? You make a mistake, you fix it. My second instinct was pure self-preservation. If I leaned over, I was going to throw up. Fact. Looking around, it was clear nobody had seen. I'm not proud of what I did next. I left. Walked right out.

I just wanted to avoid throwing up or passing out in public, and if at all possible, doing either at all. An office building with a lobby full of chairs called my name, and I sat down. Made a phone call. An airing of the grievances, if you will. Ten minutes left of a lunch hour, and I headed back to the office. Popped a piece of gum in an effort to get rid of the throw-up taste in my mouth, and decided to pop into my favorite store near the office.

When I walked in, I saw an older couple with two dogs looking at home furnishings. My hesitation only lasted for a half a second before I zoomed over. "Hi. I'm having a terrible day. Could I please pet your dogs?" Must have looked suitably pathetic, because they smiled and introduced Sadie and Ivy as I sank to my knees. For five or so minutes, I sat on the floor of a very expensive store where old monied ladies have their drivers park in no-parking places while store employees carry out bags to the car.  The couple discussed vases and coffee table books while I sat at their feet and a dog with very large eyes looked into mine and kept kissing my hand.

Eventually I hauled myself back to my feet, thanked the couple, and went back to work. While sitting in the office lobby I had contemplated leaving early for the day, citing illness. After being emotionally fortified by the dogs, that was no longer necessary.

Tomorrow I will see Le Pooch, and her snuggles will be even better, more meaningful and more healing. I am sorry for having cheated on her with other dogs. Clearly, I am the perfect candidate for a therapy dog.

Disenchanted With Dogs

Until I met Wooffers I was always comfortable saying I was a dog person. Not any more. You'd think that with how much I love Le Pooch, living with two woofs would be absolute heaven for me, but it hasn't been. Before moving in I had visions dancing in my head of laying on the floor next to a woof while reading, watching tv with a woof next to me, playing catch or tug-of-war with a woof, etc.

One of the woofs has aggressive tendencies (born out of fear) so you have to be careful with how he's approached. Also, if he gets too excited (from interacting with you), he pees. This happened earlier this week when I was petting him. I was absolutely horrified to see him frantically lick up his own pee with a worried look on his face.

The other woof gets jealous of any attention she sees the aggressive woof getting, and she will start humping him. She doesn't seem to want to be petted, it's more like she puts up with my petting her, but it does nothing for her personally.

In Wooffers' eyes whatever I do with her woofs is wrong. Once I was cooking in the kitchen alone, and when I turned around there was suddenly a woof there that hadn't been. I was holding a sharp knife and almost tripped over the woof. The words that came out of my mouth were, "Whoa ... it's okay," to reassure both myself and the woof that even though we'd both gotten shocked we were indeed fine. Of course Wooffers was sitting at her computer in the dining room-turned-office and chastised me for talking to the woof, reminding me that I was to ignore at all times.

Living with woofs is not fun here, by any stretch of the imagination. For example right now one woof is home, and keeps sticking her head through the living room blinds and crying (Wooffers took the aggressive woof out for a solo walk). Although I'm greatly amused when people trip and fall, I have this instinct to comfort anyone who is crying, man or woof. Comforting is not allowed though, only ignoring is. So here I sit on my bed, listening to a woof cry in the living room.

I fear that I don't like dogs very much anymore. Surely if this all got therapized I would come to see that the problem is not the woofs themselves, but Wooffers and her instructions to ignore, ignore, ignore. I am hopeful that when I move out of here I will go back to loving woofs, and will not cringe when I hear someone proclaim themselves a dog person.

Oh, the Crushing Awkwardness

A couple of weeks ago, I dogsat for Crazy Girl and Golden Boy while they went to NY and Crazy Girl had her final dress fitting and they saw family and stuff.

Pretty much nothing makes me happier than playing with a dog, especially one as happy and friendly as Le Pooch. Seriously. I can't express how happy it makes me that I am their number one go-to person when they need their dog watched. So I love it, and am totally happy to watch her any time. They know this. We always have these funny conversations of "Thanks for watching Le Pooch" and me saying, "Oh you're welcome and thanks for LETTING me watch Le Pooch" and we go back and forth a bit.

I've told my brother repeatedly, that even though theoretically I'm doing them a favor by dogsitting, the reality is they are doing me a favor. It's unconditional love, helps with depression tremendously, it's forced exercise, etc. Plus it's nice to be at their house, somewhere that's a change of scenery yet somewhere I'm very comfortable.

Passover is coming and they invited me to their potluck seder. At first I said I'd go, and make this dish that I make really well. Then I realized how much it would cost, and called my brother and said "Look, the truth is there's no way I can afford to make this to bring, I'm so sorry, I have to bow out. I got carried away b/c Passover is my favorite holiday."

He said of course I should come anyway, because they're nice like that. I thought maybe (wrongly) I could scrounge up the money for a can of macaroons or something, because how awkward if somebody would turn to me to ask what I brought and I had to say "My good cheer for this happy holiday!" or something. Then Golden Boy suggested he and Crazy Girl buy the ingredients for the dish and I make and bring it. I said, that's really nice, but are you doing this just so I can come and save face? He insisted he wasn't, that I'd be doing them a favor because if I didn't make it, they'd have to make it, so it would help them be less busy when they're preparing for 62 people to arrive.

So today we're supposed to get together and go buy all the ingredients for this Passover dish. Then a few days ago, it was suggested they take me to breakfast before going food shopping, as a thank you for watching Le Pooch.

Last night we were trying to iron out details of what time, and where, and things never fully got resolved. Mostly because of me - we were doing this all by e-mail, and I was not home to read e-mail. So we got as far as a time but not as far as a place.

I am low on toothpaste. While I appreciate people trying to do nice things like taking me out places that I can't afford right now (I say this like it's temporary), the reality is, I'm running out of toothpaste. The reality is, I already used up my last kitchen garbage bag.

Sure it's fun to eat pancakes, something I never make at home, but some of that fun is diluted when you realize the cost of those pancakes could pay for a tube of toothpaste that would last you a couple of months. It's hard to be properly appreciative in this situation.

I know everyone expresses their gratitude in different ways. Everyone wants gratitude expressed to them in different ways. Expressing thanks (beyond saying 'thank you') can be really easy or really difficult. My mother used to like to send me flowers on my birthday. I love flowers. Except it's really hard to look at flowers these days, knowing they could pay for a week's worth of food, or the PG&E bill for a month. To me, I truly feel thanked for watching Le Pooch when I get asked to do it again next time. That's all I need, and it's plenty.

That's how Golden Boy and I came to have the most awkward conversation ever this morning, with him saying "We just want to show you our appreciation," and me responding, "Yes, and I appreciate that, it's just hard to happily eat breakfast out when I know that money could pay for half a week's food or whatever." It got to the point where Golden Boy said if their appreciation would best be expressed by purchasing me some toothpaste, then they're happy to do that. So that's what's going to happen.

I'm going to make some oatmeal for breakfast here. Then I'm going food shopping with Golden Boy and Crazy Girl so they can buy ingredients in order for me to bring something to their potluck seder, and there'll be toothpaste buying.

I cried when Golden Boy and I got off the phone. I'll probably cry again when I get home from food shopping. It's so embarrassing. So frustrating. I'm not one of those welfare bitches whose life ambition is to get everyone else to pay for things. I want to work. I like being a contributing member of society. Nobody seems to want my contributions though. Even the place I signed up to volunteer at took all my information and then never called, after saying repeatedly how busy and swamped they are.

I'm such a fuckup that I can't even get hit by a truck and die, because I always forget in order to do that, one has to leave their house.

Hello? HELLO?

I just spent four days taking care of Le Pooch at Crazy Girl and Golden Boy's house, while they were off doing fancy things in fancy places. Phone reception in their house isn't too great - you have to stand in certain spots in order for your cell phone to work. The entire time I was there, my cell phone only rang for collection companies, nobody else.

Yesterday afternoon I got a voicemail from my father, but my phone never rang when he called. Last night Crazy Girl told me she'd heard my aunt say that my parents said I never talk to them.

I called my father back this morning, and while we were on the phone I got call-waiting twice. Both times it was collection companies.

Like a Vacation, But Less Expensive and Without Getting Lost

Over the weekend I house and dog-sat for my brother and Crazy Girl. There was really no reason to stay at their house - in the past when I dog-sit, they just drop the dog and her things off at my place. I don't even know why I asked if I could stay over, really. But I did, and they said I could, so I did.

Saturday morning I hiked up the hill to their house and tried to remember what Crazy Girl had told me about which key was for which lock. Of course I forgot to write it down and so of course I forgot and wound up standing outside for a long time playing with keys. On Saturday it was very hot in the city (for here), and as I climbed up the flights of stairs it only got hotter. But I forgot all about that when Le Pooch raced down the last set of stairs to greet me, tail wagging wildly.

She raced up and down the stairs around me, jumping and running in circles as I put my things down and took off my shoes. When I picked up Le Pooch, she laid her head against my shoulder and we had an, "Awww" moment. My brother had left me post-its on each of the three remote controls, detailing how to use them to watch a dvd. I laid down on the couch to watch Water (while drinking some ice water), and fell asleep reading subtitles. When I woke up the movie was still going, and I'm not sure what I pressed to turn it off before stumbling to the bedroom, Le Pooch following me down the hallway.

I never allow myself to fall asleep on the couch at home. I feel like it's rude to my roommate - what if he wanted to sit there? Or have a friend over in the living room?

The next morning I stripped the bed and did a wash of sheets and towels. Later, I spreaad everything all over the couch to fold. For no real reason, I left it all out when Le Pooch and I went for a long walk. Because I could, I guess. At home I would never do that. I fold laundry in my bedroom, putting it in piles on my bed before putting all my clothes away.

Maybe this is why I had asked to house-sit. Crazy Girl and Golden Boy were only gone overnight - they didn't need their house "sat." But maybe I had needed a break from being considerate all the time. It was a great break.

Then I came home and cleaned crumbs that weren't mine off the kitchen counters.

Again With the Awesomeness

In the end, he was talking to her when nobody else was around (so he thought). And in the end, he was playing fetch and petting her. (*"I realized that I took more than I gave; I was loved more than I loved." Name that movie!) Because that's how great she is - you will simply come to want to love her, because she makes it plain how much your life will be enhanced by interactions with her. I fell in love with her the second I met her, when Crazy Girl brought her to pick me up at a bus station in LA. So I should not have been surprised at the ability of Le Pooch to win him over.

In turn he has won me over. Tonight he asked me how I clean the kitchen, so that he can do it. Then he asked if he can borrow my vacuum. Then he emptied the filter. Not the cannister, but the filter. And then, he vacuumed again, to get up all the dust that came out while cleaning the filter.

No joke, none of my girl roommates EVER vacuumed.

Pardon me, I must go swoon now.

How the Love Affair Ended

*This morning's post brought to you by the letter "C" and Tracy Chapman's Fast Car, which is what was on my iPod during most of the walk to work while I mentally wrote this.

*Alternate Title:
I Found My Deal-Breaker

As of last night, I am dog-sitting. This fills me with a joy only capable of being measured by small children dreaming of fields and meadows of candy and dogs hoping everything in the world will be coated in peanut butter and wrapped in bacon.

I grew up with a dog who was loved more than I was by everyone in the family (including myself). My day can be made by getting to pet a dog. I have made friends with cat people, but only because although we do not love the same animal, we completely understand each other's love for our respective animals.

When I initially met with 9am (like with all prospective roommates), I told him that sometimes I dog-sit for a small and loveable dog (Le Pooch), and would he be okay with that? And if not, it's okay to say, because I could just go to my brother's house to dog-sit, rather than have LP here. 9am told me he's allergic to cats, but doesn't know about dogs and is willing to try. I told him if it turned out he was allergic, I'd buy him some Benadryl, and take Le Pooch back to her house to watch her. So I figured it'd be fine.

A couple of weekends ago, my brother invited me over for dinner. I asked if I could bring 9am, as I wanted Golden Boy to get to meet him. He said yes he'd love to, and we set off into the city that evening. When we arrived, Le Pooch ran down the stairs to greet us, and I felt 9am stand behind me as I pet and talked with her.

I'm going to stop here, to tell you something about 9am. He was a chemistry major. He says it's because of that, that he's a germ freak. Even more than I am. He does not sit down on public transportation, choosing instead to stand. He does not touch the poles to keep his balance. He does not touch stair bannisters. He will not go in the hot tub (neither will I, but it's about body issues for me). He washes his hands upon arriving at home. Wait, so do I. But you see what I'm saying. Ignorance really is bliss.

During the entire ... almost four hours we were at my brother's house, I can't recall seeing 9am ever touch Le Pooch, though he did throw one of her toys for her to fetch. During dinner, another dog, at some neighboring house, barked. It was a distant noise, but Golden Boy, Crazy Girl, and I all heard it. So we were not surprised when LP went tearing through the house, barking at the very top of her doggie lungs. 9am jumped every time. (As a slight aside, I am a very jumpy person, and even I barely blinked at LP's barking.) I felt bad, but 9am was as cool as one can be about getting scared three times in a row during dinner. Hey, it happens. Dogs bark. 9am was less rattled by it than I would have been if something had continually startled me.

We got home, and I asked 9am if it was a germ issue. He said it partially was, and smiled at me. "You probably look at a dog kind of like another member of the family, right?" "Naturally." "Yeah. I look at a dog as a dog." I see. Except, I can't quite see, to be honest.

And now Le Pooch is here. On Monday, I spoke with 9am about her arrival, to explain how to go about living with a dog, or, living with this specific dog. We do not feed her people food at all, ever. Le Pooch will not dash out through the front door when you open it, so you don't have to worry about her running away. She's not allowed on furniture. When you eat she will beg for food and sometimes put her front paws on your leg - just say "No" and put her back on the floor. I told 9am that I'd give him one of LP's treats to feed her, so she'd like him.

Last night, 9am told me he was going out, and left around 10pm. When I went to bed, I left my door open a tiny bit, so that when 9am came home, LP would be able to run to greet him, as she likes to do when anybody arrives. 9am arrived home around midnight, and true to form Le Pooch jumped off my bed and ran out to say hello to him. My bedroom is right near the front door. I know 9am was standing there, taking off his shoes, and I did not hear him say anything to LP. Maybe he was just trying to be considerate of me, by being quiet. He is a very considerate guy that way. But I would have felt better if I'd heard him greet her.

But on Wednesdays 9am doesn't have to leave the house until around noon, and I'm a little uncomfortable being at work right now. Le Pooch doesn't like the rain, and is a little under the weather (no pun intended). I almost called into work sick, to stay home with her. Luckily, at this job I can walk to and from work, so I'm going to rush home on my lunch hour to check on LP and make sure she is okay. Normally I'm not like this - but Trixie loved Le Pooch. Not as much as I do, but a fine and good amount. Enough that I was comfortable leaving them alone together. I don't think 9am can imagine feeling love for a dog.

I am unsettled.

(And this is reason 938,284 why I should not have children. The stress of worrying all the time would surely kill me, leaving my child motherless.)

UPDATE (per Silliyak's orders):
It was not raining mid-day and when I arrived home all the doors I'd left open were still open, and Le Pooch was fine - she'd been snoozing in my bedroom. This evening when 9am came home, he appreciated being greeted at the door by LP and did pet her for a while. I feel much better.