*As usual, photo by Chase.
Oh my goodness, you guys! We are finding a new home for Dexter, our dog. Glory glory hallelujah! Praise be to the Lord on high who made this day possible, and to my landlady on the first floor, who told us to get rid of our pet*.
*In her defense, we knew we couldn’t have a dog before we moved in.
It’s not that I don’t love Dexter or that I won’t be devastated to see him go. It’s just that he causes me more stress than anything else in my life and, while I don’t think it’s advisable to toss aside living creatures who are dependent upon you for their survival (who you pledged to love forever and ever, amen), I do think that in this particular instance, finding Dex a new home is the right thing to do. And I’m not just saying that because Whitney stepped in his dog shit yesterday and it smeared all over my clothes and her car seat before I noticed; although, if you saw me swearing at the top of my lungs, slamming doors, and crying at 7:00 in the morning, I could see why you might think that. Nor am I saying it is the right thing to do because Dexter is ill-behaved, batshit insane, skiddish around strangers, snappy with Whitney, and hive-inducing for myself (though that does play a part)… It’s the right thing to do because we can’t afford the things responsible pet owners do for their animals – like get him his shots, neuter him, and buy him really nutritious food. Also, we don’t have the time or patience needed to take care of him properly. We both work all day and he’s alone a lot (which is pretty bad considering he is such a nervous and neurotic dog). After spending the day at my job and coming home to take care of Whitney, my patience is spent, I am exhausted, and I don’t have enough energy left over for poor Dex. The truth is, we probably should have given him to a responsible, loving family a long time ago.
Still, that’s easier said than done when you are emotionally attached to your pet (even though he’s a nutjob), and it makes me sad to think about getting rid of Dexter. When we first got him, I told Chase we were going to keep him no matter what – even if he turned out to be a demon animal sent to us from the devil himself. I am ashamed to be shucking this responsiblity so easily now. I can’t believe it’s me (okay, and my landlord) saying that we need to find Dexter a new home. I feel guilty because Chase doesn’t want to get rid of him. I feel like I am depriving my daughter of the joy of having a pet (and Whitney effin’ loves that dog, even though he isn’t very nice or patient with her and I’m sure he can’t be good for her asthma). I have failed Dexter as a mother, and, even though he was born a high-strung retard of a dog, I know in my heart of hearts that I didn’t step up to train him the way I should have and that his behaviour issues are more a reflection of me and my poor dog-parenting skills than they are of his character. Mostly, I feel guilty because, as sad as I am to see him go, I am also happy and relieved.
I hope that we can find a good home for him with owners who will love him and walk him and train him and dote on him all day long. He deserves it.