Alas...
Well, it's Dragon*Con weekend and I am stuck at home tending to my neurotic dog and catching up on work I fell behind on when I got sick the other week.
And really, that's okay. When I finally came to the decision to stay behind, I felt relieved of a lot of stress. That's five days I re-gained to catch up on costume work and convention prep. It also gave my husband a chance to get out of the house and have some time out with friends on his own, which I hope will be nice for him.
Last night, the dog helped me realize that I did indeed make the correct decision in opting to not go to the con. He managed to chew open both of his wrists on his front paws. He's always had neurotic behavior in that he will idly lick at one spot on his skin until it breaks open, and he'll continue to worry it until it inevitably gets infected. Then we'd have to put him in a plastic cone, but he's allergic to plastic, so things would just get worse, and we'd have to suffer our legs being rammed from behind by his satellite dish until he finally recovered.
The acquisition of a fabric cone helped; while he could technically reach around it to lick at his hind legs (the worst offenders, apparently) he took a more "out of sight, out of mind" approach and just didn't bother with it. Until this week, I guess, when he realized that it might be too much trouble to worry his back legs, but not to lick at his front legs.
That's how we arrived at where we are today. My dog is the only dog that's hardcore and emo enough to slit his own wrists. Argggh.
I hope I've caught his sores in time to avoid them getting infected. I've cleaned them, wrapped them in bandages, and popped the plastic cone on my dog. Only time will tell, but at least I am home with him, and he's not having to spend a week in the kennel or with a pet sitter. I would've been terribly worried had he had this issue and we left him behind. It was bad enough to know Luna was seizing and we were four hours away in the car on our way home last year. :\
Folks, this is what happens when you dump your pets, and someone takes them into their home. Reo's had separation anxiety, but he's also got a host of neuroses that have come out of the woodwork as he gets older. He gets anxious, he gets depressed. He gets sassy about stupid stuff. Frankly, my dog has issues. And a lot of those issues probably never would have happened if his original family hadn't dumped him at the shelter.
I love my dog to pieces, and I'm eternally grateful that he's been a part of our family. But I wish he'd never been given up in the first place. I wish he could've lived a full, happy life with the family that chose him from the beginning. Because of them, I have high vet bills to deal with, since MOST of our vet visits had been related to the skin infections from his incessant idle licking. I have a dog that can't just be left to his own devices, for fear of his harming himself. I have a dog that can't be left at the kennel without something that smells like home (an old t-shirt, or a small blanket) because he won't eat for fear of being abandoned again.
And I find myself mad, incredibly mad at a dog for doing stupid things to himself that he just doesn't understand. I can't explain it to him, I can't use logic and reasoning to get him to stop. I just have to find a way around it. I get mad at him for being dumb; I get mad at me for being mad at him.
And really, that's okay. When I finally came to the decision to stay behind, I felt relieved of a lot of stress. That's five days I re-gained to catch up on costume work and convention prep. It also gave my husband a chance to get out of the house and have some time out with friends on his own, which I hope will be nice for him.
Last night, the dog helped me realize that I did indeed make the correct decision in opting to not go to the con. He managed to chew open both of his wrists on his front paws. He's always had neurotic behavior in that he will idly lick at one spot on his skin until it breaks open, and he'll continue to worry it until it inevitably gets infected. Then we'd have to put him in a plastic cone, but he's allergic to plastic, so things would just get worse, and we'd have to suffer our legs being rammed from behind by his satellite dish until he finally recovered.
The acquisition of a fabric cone helped; while he could technically reach around it to lick at his hind legs (the worst offenders, apparently) he took a more "out of sight, out of mind" approach and just didn't bother with it. Until this week, I guess, when he realized that it might be too much trouble to worry his back legs, but not to lick at his front legs.
That's how we arrived at where we are today. My dog is the only dog that's hardcore and emo enough to slit his own wrists. Argggh.
I hope I've caught his sores in time to avoid them getting infected. I've cleaned them, wrapped them in bandages, and popped the plastic cone on my dog. Only time will tell, but at least I am home with him, and he's not having to spend a week in the kennel or with a pet sitter. I would've been terribly worried had he had this issue and we left him behind. It was bad enough to know Luna was seizing and we were four hours away in the car on our way home last year. :\
Folks, this is what happens when you dump your pets, and someone takes them into their home. Reo's had separation anxiety, but he's also got a host of neuroses that have come out of the woodwork as he gets older. He gets anxious, he gets depressed. He gets sassy about stupid stuff. Frankly, my dog has issues. And a lot of those issues probably never would have happened if his original family hadn't dumped him at the shelter.
I love my dog to pieces, and I'm eternally grateful that he's been a part of our family. But I wish he'd never been given up in the first place. I wish he could've lived a full, happy life with the family that chose him from the beginning. Because of them, I have high vet bills to deal with, since MOST of our vet visits had been related to the skin infections from his incessant idle licking. I have a dog that can't just be left to his own devices, for fear of his harming himself. I have a dog that can't be left at the kennel without something that smells like home (an old t-shirt, or a small blanket) because he won't eat for fear of being abandoned again.
And I find myself mad, incredibly mad at a dog for doing stupid things to himself that he just doesn't understand. I can't explain it to him, I can't use logic and reasoning to get him to stop. I just have to find a way around it. I get mad at him for being dumb; I get mad at me for being mad at him.