Tag Archives: dogs

The dreaded cone of shame!

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My cat is a narcissistic psychopath and my dog is a drug addict.

Let me introduce you to Lucy, my Portuguese Water Dog since I’ve already given you a glimpse into my cats troubled mind. But before you say, “Oh you have a Obama dog” I’ll stop you, I had Lucy long before President Obama. But as I was saying, Lucy my PWD has humorously vet diagnosed anxiety issues that lead to Irritable bowl syndrome. I think she has undiagnosed borderline personality disorder and mild schizophrenia. I certainly think the animals in my life were destined for my family because any other would have been a death sentence.

My whole life I’ve had stray dogs, mutts and rarely had health problems. But this beautiful little fluff ball wooed me, the promise of a hypoallergenic, and that they didn’t she’d sealed the deal. Within a year, health problems began manifesting, skin allergies would trump all her mental disorders.  Aside from all that, we love the nut. We loved her enough to recently fix a sudden onset of health problems, a blood hematoma in her ear, skin infection from allergies, double ear infection, and an eye infection, when it’s all said and done it damaged my checkbook by nearly $2000. But here’s the fun part, the cone of shame and she’s now a drug addict. Yes, a drug addict that is currently slapping the shit out of me with the big plastic cone begging for Tramadol. BEGGING!

The big damn plastic cone of shame is her weapon. She will slap the walls, bump into everything, knock things over more than the psychopathic black cat. She makes her presence known and will go to the kitchen to beg for her pills. Sunday, we finally gave her the last dose.

Monday was withdrawal hell! At times I think the dog is dying, she trapped the cat with her cone. In my head, I imagined a conversation from the dog, “Cat go knock the pills down or I will eat your black heart.” My kitchen is very narrow and each time I walk near the kitchen the dog rolls onto her back in submission for her pills. Then when she sees I’m walking away, up she’ll bolt and knock into me over and over and over with the cone. I tell myself, It’s only for three weeks and I spent so much I have to leave the cone on her. Last night, midnight…plastic scraping drywall, back and forth.  She’s learns this get a response from me. I kick her out of my room only to have her torture my children.

We survived the night. Tuesday, I think I was going mad, had to take my own anti-anxiety medication. The plastic scraping along the walls. She is taunting me back and forth raking the walls like nails on a chalkboard. Even the cat walks by and hisses at her. Even the cat has had it with the cone. The dog constantly flips over on her back begging for her Tramadol. I swear I saw her purposely trip down a couple steps and limp in hopes I’d get her more pills.

It’s morning now, I hate the damn cone. I snap at every clumsy move the dog makes now. She’s somehow knocked my coffee over twice. I think I’ve found myself a trigger. Hello Benzodiazepines!

I’m now walking around singing “Sunshine, lollipops, and Rainbows” by Lesley Gore. If you don’t know her songs google. You can thank me later for the songs on repeat in your head. As if it wasn’t already crazy enough, this too shall pass. I’ve planned myself a mommy night. No family, no pets, just me and a quite corner in a bookstore, coffee shop. I’d even settle for hanging out in Target for a couple hours without, “Mom, can I get this?” Maybe I’ll go have a meal and glass of wine.

My family can see the black dog coming, literally!

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All aboard the coo-coo train….it’s time for some musing.

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  Let me start by saying “Yes, I have been drinking” and “You’re no better than me” in my best drunken voice.

First item of business cats, Why do you got to be assholes? Only once did I have a cat that loved me unconditionally and he had a heart attack when he was two, it’s a hard life loving me….even for a cat. But back to the asshole black cat who has found her way into the hearts of everyone in the house. I’m sure part of her dark plan to off me with nail clippers in the middle of the night and take my place in the house. Cats are funny, we really are their pets. She doesn’t like where I sit my glass of water. Cat, “Oh I see you sat water here, let me knock that off and water the floor for you. You’re  welcome human.” Or the constant meowing and purring like she wants to be loved. I reach to pet her thinking, “This is it, she finally loves me.” WRONG……Cat’s mind, “Oh no! Don’t you dare pet me like an animal. Follow me now human!!! I AM STARVING. My bowl is only half filled and I peed in my box SCOOP IT now human, NOW! NoW!”  I can set items of mine on the bar and around the house at random then sit with a glass of wine or coffee and just listen to shit hit the floor all over the house. Anyways, why you got to be an asshole? I like my clutter, but Trubul likes clean surfaces. The cat need meds, like yesterday!

I just completely lost track. Second, I decided I really want a raccoon.

Third, I hate that I gained 20 pounds from the fucking medication, I only took for two months. What’s up with that shit?!? Husband typical rational response, “Well honey, it may not be the meds, diet and exercise are just as important and well you are a spring chicken anymore.” Well thank you Mr. Obvious. Thank you for reminding me, but I think it’s probably just the medication…..and maybe a little too much wine. Did I mention I quit two days ago only to drink for this night?

Third, why is the nut drinking and musing tonight? To be honest to avoid a low, I’m celebrating my misfortune. Yes, celebrating my misfortunes of the past two weeks. My bank account is nearly $5000 dollars poorer. Unexpected expenses just keep popping up, such as my two flat tire in one day on each of my vehicles, new tires all around, Hooray! If that wasn’t enough the dog joins in with her problems. This weekend, Dog, “my ear hurt human, I am itchy human, my ear hurts human” As she wagged and bugged the shit out of me. I finally pet her and scratch her ear to discover the dog has scratched so much she has a hematoma completely bulging in her ear. Also overnight, ear and eye infections, and a flare up of skin allergies. Off to vet, $700 later and a scheduled surgery this Friday estimated to be another $700 the dog is walking around happy and stoned on pain meds and allergy medication. I swear the dog thinks she is my husband mistress tonight. I actually getting jealous. I need a good scratching too……more wine.

Forth, I don’t even know what this post started out about, but pretty sure I was mad at someone and ignoring them by blogging.

Lastly, “You shouldn’t drink if you’re on medication. It defeats the purpose  and effectiveness of the medication you are taking” and my response to myself, “I fucking know that and you have to howl at the moon sometimes.” Pardon my language, it’s the Marine in me and being around them for decades. OMG, decades make me feel old.

I shall toast and be embarrassed tomorrow. But being bipolar does not mean I can’t howl at the moon every once in a while.

I am pretty certain the cat beat the dog up.