I've Become One of Those Women That Calls Her Dog Sweetie

In my own defense I'd like to point out that these emotions sneaked up on me. Herman, my dog, has been behaving horribly, biting me hard enough to draw blood. He's been incredibly disobedient, destroying my glasses and numerous other things. A good friend runs a dog boarding and training business and suggested that Herman spend two weeks with her pack of dogs and I agreed. I didn't make it through one damn day without calling her to check on my dog. I needed to know he's OK. She was wonderfully patient explaining how Herman has already begun to change some of his negative behaviors. I'm the problem.

She pointed out that he's overweight. Well hell so am I! What's the problem? But I honestly do know it can be a problem for a pet. She explained that the mixture of wet and dry dog food I give him is great but stop feeding him all the people food. My motto has been "Whenever I eat Herman eats. Whatever I eat Herman eats." My first thought was "Who am I going to eat with now?" I had no idea I'd become so dependent upon the company of a dog. My husband works the night shift at a group home. When he comes home in the mornings he wants to play his computer games for awhile to unwind and then go to sleep. A thousand years ago when I worked the midnight shift in a hospital I'd wake up in two hours increments. He sleeps straight through for six hours. I've never seen anything like it. Consequently I'm left in total silent alone.

I started out fascinated by this then soon began talking to myself. From there I went to talking to the cat, who I might say NEVER responded to a single question I posed. Its like solitary confinement. Television is canned conversation. You have all these thoughts and nowhere to put them; Consider blogging she said slyly. Anyway Herman became my person to talk to. I've tried taking him for a drive in the car with me but each time so far he's thrown up. I can personally attest to how unpleasant it is to have a dog throw up when your going 50 miles an hour. I don't understand people with their dogs hanging out the car window. The dog looks happy as hell. How'd they get them to do that? I can't even get my dog to come when I call him. So I'm officially a woman that owns a dog she talks to. My mother took care of my dog after I ran away from home. When I'd visit years later she would talk to the dog as he was a person and I arrogantly laughed at her behavior. Now here I am living the retirement life, behaving strangely. Just wait. Your time will come. You'll get so desperate to hear the sound of another voice you'll go sit in a Starbucks and when you sit down you'll realize you don't even like coffee. Just like that Boston bar but instead of Norm they'll yell your name and you'll be delighted.

I feel sicker today. My ankle is so badly swollen I can't wear a shoe. The doctors warned me this would happen, that I would hurt myself and not know it happened because the nerves are dying. I have flash moments of absolute terror. Then the world settles down. My heart tells me somehow "not today" and I calm down. Every since the doctor backed away from his prognosis that I'm dying immediately, or as he said "You have 50% lung capacity. No transplant hospital will take you until your much lower than that." I've been living that tightrope life. My time appears to be about two years give or take a missed diagnosis, I'd like to see my time add up to about another 20 years. I can't swear that the universe agrees with me though.