It is the End of the World as we Know it

The dog that lives in my house has reached that very special time in his life where he is driving me out of my mind.

I say the dog because he is not my dog; he belongs to the Boy Wonder. Although you would never know it because I am the one who makes sure he has food and water and is still breathing.

The situation evolved over the course of a separation, a divorce, his father’s relocating out of state and the Boy Wonder’s coming of age; getting his driver’s license and a part time job. Throw in school, his night class and do the math. He’s not home long enough to really look after his dog.

The Hubster is of course still off in NY working and living six days a week so that leaves me.

So it’s nobody’s fault and just the situation as it is.

That being said, Zack, the dog, is 10 years old and these days is driving me to within inches of committing doggy homicide. It’s coming down to me or him and you can place your bets firmly on me.

The last six months I have been taking small but determined steps towards what I want to be and what I want to do in this next chapter of my journey. The Boy Wonder is graduating from High School and I need to move on too so I don’t become a crazy cat lady or something.

***It takes more than 3 cats to qualify, yes?***

Writing is where I’m going and since starting I just can’t imagine stopping. There are so many stories inside me, characters who are all talking at once and then there’s me in the background nattering on about all the ideas that keep popping up and the dog is staring at me from his bed in the kitchen.

Shouldn’t be a big deal right? Except when he stares at you he does it with every single fiber of his being. I kid you not, look at the picture.

Even through the sliders his powers are strong.

Now add whining and incontinence. Oh yeah, Zack now wears diapers. The vet says that they usually only see this in spayed, older females.

I always knew there was something lacking in Zack’s maleness. He once had to be treated for a urinary tract infection, which he acquired by humping the neighbor dogs ear during their play dates. Yeah, she wasn’t impressed either and stopped taking his calls.

So Zack now has to wear this diaper wrap for male dogs, which is more than humiliating enough, but I have to line them with a maxi pad so he doesn’t wet through it. If he had any male pride at all it disappeared the first time the diaper was put on him.

And he did use to soak through it every night until he started taking these huge pills three times a day, which I wrap, in soy nut butter to get him to swallow them. They were to hopefully stop the incontinence problem but Zack is so special that the pills only stem the flow enough that the maxi pads contain it. (For those who have to know he sports the Tan Pawprint wrap.)

So why am I still complaining?

Because today Zack has become Chicken Little and is quite sure the sky is falling and the world, as he knows it at least, is coming to an end.

What is actually happening is that the sun is shining brightly enough that the snow and ice is melting from the roof of the house and is sliding off in bits every ¼ hour or so. When that happens, diaper doggy leaps up and runs blindly across the kitchen and stands and stares at me.

I try to ignore him but his eyes are literally burning holes into the side of my head and there it is again.

Resentment and guilt for feeling resentful of a damn dog and there goes my creative life force seeping onto the floor and here comes the part of me that wishes I could make him disappear.

I know what you’re thinking:

He’s just a dog.

He’s a great dog.

You should be thankful for such a dog.

What kind of a person wants to make dogs disappear?

ME! The one trying so hard to reclaim that part of me that had to be stuffed down and buried away these past 13 years. If it comes down to my sanity or Zack’s, I will selfishly choose mine.

All I can say is thank goddess for laptops, wireless connections, iTunes, Madonna, noise canceling headphones and bedroom doors, which can close.

Chicken Little lives to see another day.