Google+ Followers

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

DECISION MADE

water over rocks



It can't be helped. I'm taking the dog to the pound in the morning. Can't take it any more. Maybe it would be all right if I never had to leave the house. But sometimes I have to go here and go there. When I go someplace there is no keeping the dog out of the house. Even with the door locked the dog gets in. Today when I went off I left the door and the screen door open so the dog could at least get outside for a bowel movement if it felt so inclined. I come home and everything was about half the wreck I anticipated. I can't do it any more. The cats live here. It's their home. A dog completely out of control is not a good one to bring home to the cats. They stay hid all the time. To keep the dog out of their food I'd have to put it on top of the refrigerator.



I've come to realize training this dog will take more patience than I have. I don't want the dog bad enough to put my patience to the test every day. Getting in and out of the car is a struggle every time. Getting inItalic and out of the house is a struggle keeping dog out when I don't want it in. It minds when I yell at it all out in practically a scream. I'm tired of yelling. I'm tired of raising my knee every time the dog jumps at me to push it back and when that stops working, pushing it with my feet, grocery bags in both hands trying to get in the door. It's not worth it. I just don't care any more. It's a cute dog and might make a good dog, but I don't have the time to wait for it.



2 days ago when I was attempting to get Tapo to the house past the dog, first by stuffing the dog in the pet carrier, which the dog refused to do. I became determined and the dog did too. I said, holding the carrier in one hand and trying to push the dog in with the other hand, "You will go in there." BAM!!! The blaster went off, the defibrillator. First thought of what felt like a fist hitting me in the middle of the chest, What was that? Then I got it. I sat down and thought about it a few minutes, thinking I need to stop believing I can force or control this dog. I've brought a serious disruption into the house and I'm not ready for it. The cats aren't either. I want to castrate him and there's nothing to castrate. It's the struggle I'm tired of. The blast I got told me I'm not up to this. I'm not willing to try another blast. It's not that much fun. Of course, it was my own unconsciousness that triggered it. It showed me I need to pay closer attention to my limits, and that the dog takes me into unconsciousness before I'm aware I've gone there.



I wouldn't mind him being an outside dog. I could barricade the windows. I'd have to keep him tied with a chain. I don't want a dog that bad. It's caused me to rethink my belief that I need a dog. Martha comes over here every day. She acts as my dog during the day and is not a threat to the cats. I'm tired of the struggle. It's been nothing but struggle since I brought the dog home. Puppydog eyes. It seems like it has grown half a foot in length since I found him. He's grown a lot in a week. I don't see us bonding. Dog might have bonded with me to some extent, but I have not yet reached the place I couldn't let the dog go. I don't like the constant struggle and it's causing me to like the dog less. Tonight I dreaded coming home from Justin and Crystal's for what I wouldn't let myself imagine was waiting for me at the house. I thought, seeing it, it will be bad enough, so don't magnify it by thinking about it. It wasn't really bad. I'd emptied the trash containers. He'd got hold of one of my shoes, but not bad. He had a bottle of 409 on the floor in the living room. It's what I'd used to clean up his pee from the floor yesterday.



Enough is enough is enough. I'm wore out. I bought a good mess of food for him yesterday, and I'll take it all to the pound with him. I wanted a dog, not a metaphor for mayhem cut loose in all directions at all times. Going to town tomorrow for lunch. Will leave an hour early and deliver the dog on the way. I don't have what it takes to train this dog to what it takes for a dog to live with me. When a car is approaching he'll walk out in front of it like he thinks it's his friend. The car has to stop, I have to go pick him up and carry him out of the road. It means nothing to him. I'm beginning to understand that sometimes a kid can be more than the parents can handle and the cause of unconscious reactions, making a problem child worse. This is my final mistake believing I need a dog. I feel no certainty that the dog won't hurt the cats. The primary reason I recognize it's time to pass the dog on is finding I don't like it any more. It's too much trouble, too much wrestling, too much yelling, the only thing it responds to when it comes to obedience, too much concern for the cats hiding all the time, dog gobbling up their food and drinking from their water bowl.

No comments:

Post a Comment