Sometimes my dog hates me

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . October 4, 2011 . 5:30PM

As I type this, my favorite dog, Sophie, sits by my side gently licking my hands and distracting me from typing my blog. She lays her head on my chest, looks deeply into my eyes and I can tell that she wants me to know that she loves me and cares for me and won’t I just stop what I’m doing and love her a little back? You’d think this dog was never loved a day in her life, and yet she is spoiled beyond belief. She frequently gets snacks, pets, playtime, hugs and where does she sleep? In my bed. Under my blankets.

With that being said, Sophie is my shadow. Where I go, she goes. Jillian had a little dog whose fur was black as night, if Jillian left to go to work, Sophie was sure to fight. When I leave her, I can walk out the front door and hear the keening cries from the bereft “pea.” Yes, Sophie loves me.

Sometimes, though, all bets are off. One night last week, I was grumpy and tired and had grabbed my book to read before bedtime, as I frequently do. I lay down with my book and my small package of whole wheat peanut butter crackers and finally, finally managed to relax. As I munched my crackers, I read chapter after chapter. Chew, chew, chew, swallow, drink the water. Repeat. I looked up and there was my adoring little dog…with narrowed eyes, cocked ears and a look of pure envy. Her face said, “Give me those crackers and no one gets hurt.”

I had one cracker left. I was hungry, tired and needed my cracker. I slowly put it in my mouth and chew, chew, chew, swallow, water. Sophie looked at me, looked at the empty wrapper and stood up. She walked to the far side of the bed and turned her back to me. She refused to look at me or engage in any kind of cuddling. Yes, I’d just done the impossible: I’d made my dog hate me over peanut butter crackers.

The next day, I woke up to my dog nuzzling my hand and all slights forgotten. I got cuddles, hugs and sweetness. If only all relationships were so simple.

Loss and coping

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . May 2, 2011 . 6:16PM

As he walked through the door with the largest pink flower I’d ever seen, he grinned and talked about how he’d found it on the ground and wasn’t it beautiful? It truly was. Fragrant and bulbous and clearly picked from the yard of one our neighbors. He’d taken to doing this lately and though he’d been grilled about this action and reprimanded, his reasons for doing it were altruistic and it hurt my heart to yell at him once again.

Often, he’d walk up to me and proffer the flowers for his “amazing, wonderful mama,” but lately the flowers had been for our turtle, Petey. He’d recently discovered that flowers were a delicacy for Petey and the more fragrant the flower the more Petey would tear into it with relish. Petey tended towards a grumpy nature and would rarely open his eyes for anything more than what appeared to be a piratey “Argh” when he was prodded, so to see him come out of his shell, literally, to eat that flower with gusto was a sight for AJ to behold. We’d stand around Petey’s pen and watch him eat and imagine that the flowers put him in a better mood.

Last night, though, I’d been at my friend Bryan’s house until late. When I came home, I immediately checked in on Petey, as I do frequently throughout the day. I noticed that he was splayed in a fashion that was unnatural to him and picked him up to check on him. When he didn’t open his eyes to glare at me, it occurred to me that something was terribly wrong. His little limbs didn’t move and prodding him didn’t change his posture. Petey was gone.

Lately he’d been lethargic and I’d attributed it to the changing seasons. I’d taken him outside a couple of days earlier for some sunshine and even that time in the sun and shade hadn’t perked him up. His shell had become flimsy and, after looking at some information online, it became apparent to me that he’d had a disease that we hadn’t caught. Because AJ was sleeping, and Petey couldn’t stay in the cage like that, he was laid to rest in the creek behind the house. I didn’t want AJ to wake up without his turtle and not know why, so I woke him up and gently told him the news. He checked on Petey often and had I not told him, he would have been startled to not find him.

He was confused, but I thought he understood what I was telling him. I was wrong.

Oh, my sweet boy. My sensitive child.

When he took Sophie for a walk this afternoon and brought home that pink flower with the biggest grin he could muster, I never once considered Petey. He walked up to the fireplace mantle, where we kept Petey’s cage, looked at me and arched his eyebrow slightly.

“Mom, where did you put Petey?”

Oh no.

I explained to him that I’d told him last night that Petey had passed away. The most terrible look crossed his face and I will not forget his words. “But, what will I do with this flower now? I brought it home for him to eat. He loves flowers.”

I was at a loss, but told him to put it in a bowl and put it on Petey’s spot on the mantle. He did and silently went to the couch where he looked at it for a moment and his face crumbled. He was upset that he didn’t get to say goodbye so we went down to the creek and he placed the flower in it and said his goodbyes. He’s understandably confused about why turtles have to die and what happens to turtles when they die and whether or not he will see his turtle friend again.

Ultimately, I think the main question we face when we lose someone we love is did we love them enough? Did they feel our love? Did they know what they meant to us? In this case, did this turtle know he was a beloved turtle to a 10-year old boy who loved his grumpy little face enough to face punishment for stealing the neighbors flowers on a regular basis so that turtle could have a delicious treat? Because, after all, we make sacrifices for those we love. Make no mistake, that turtle was loved. But did he know it?

It may seem a little ridiculous to wonder if a turtle felt loved or not, but it doesn’t feel ridiculous to me nor does it feel ridiculous to AJ. Everyday, Petey was part of our day and he made our lives better. Many people I know are grieving right now and I see the questions in their face as to whether or not the person or thing they are grieving felt their love or knew what was given for that relationship.

We all want to feel loved. I wonder if any of us know the true extent of how much we really are adored? If this turtle was enough to break an adult and a child, how much more so are we to those around us?

RIP little one

In which I make a request…Animals in shelters

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . December 21, 2010 . 5:08PM

Christmastime is special to me, as it is to most people. I’ve never lost my childlike wonder for the lights, the tree lots, the snow, the gifts, really, any of it. As I grow, though, parts of the holiday that are less enchanted seem to hit me like a truck and I can’t seem to shake them, no matter how hard I try.

I’ve spent quite a bit of time in the last couple of years reading about shelter animals and rescue dogs, and the number of puppies and kittens that are brought back to shelters after the holidays is staggering. I’m not going to get on my soapbox for long, but I would like to make a request in that I’d like for anyone that is considering a puppy this year to consider a couple of options.

One option is to consider a fully grown dog or cat from a shelter or a rescue site. Dogs are often trained and do well with children. They can be just as cute and cuddly as puppies and need just as much love. They are silly and friendly and sweet. They also piddle on the floor a lot less. Cats are independent and don’t need much to be amused. They are easily potty-trained and if you ever wanted to know what to do with empty toilet-rolls, now you know.

If you absolutely must have a puppy or kitten, please find them at a shelter, if you can. Shelters are overrun in the cold weather and the number of animals that are put to sleep is astounding.

Lastly, when you get your new animal, please take care of it’s doggy/kitty parts and make sure it can’t procreate. It helps keep the pet population down and animals from being stuck in poor situations.

My dog, Sophie, is one of the joys of my life. She was rescued by a family about 2 hours from where I live and I wouldn’t trade her for anything. When I’m sick she sleeps by my side. When I wake up in the morning she cuddles me. When I leave the house, she cries because she can’t go with me. As I type this, I sit cross-legged on my recliner. Sophie is at my feet. She wasn’t a puppy when I got her and she’s not the most beautiful dog in the world. I love her tremendously and she is one of my best friends.

You can see my right sidebar for Dogs in Danger, which is a site that lets you know about dogs that are in Kill shelters and need a home near you. You can also donate to the humane society there. You can google for shelters in your area and Petfinder.com often allows shelters to use them as a resource.

Please help save an animal this season. Dogs, cats, turtles, you name it, need a good home. If you choose an animal this year, please be a responsible pet owner.

The dog stands alone…

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . November 13, 2010 . 5:19AM

Sometimes I hate being a parent.

Blaspheme, right? It’s true. Part of being a parent means that I have to do the hard work such as disciplining my child when he misbehaves or chooses to mess around in class as opposed to choosing to learn and distract those around him. This makes my job as a parent difficult and unenjoyable.

Lately, AJ has been testing his independence and his boundaries at school. This week he forgot something necessary at school and, as such, he ended up going to bed early and his dog was not allowed to sleep in his bedroom. In this house, one thing is always true: Wherever my child goes, so goes his dog. There has never been a more loyal dog than that dachshund to her boy.

What I knew was that the separation of the two was going to hurt one person: me. Why is this? Because AJ was going to go to sleep and I was going to be left with the whiny, leaky eyed dog that would look at the gaited stairs and turn eyes on me that were alternately hateful, pitiful and pleading. This is exactly what happened. She would go to the gate at the stairs and stand there for 10 minutes at a time while looking up at the darkened stairs and waiting for him to come down to get her. When it didn’t happen, she would come to me, grunt sadly and run back to the stairs. Her message was clearly “Please let me be with him.”

I had to say no. Over 100 times in the 4 hours I was awake after he went to bed did I say no. Eventually, she wore herself out and curled up on my legs. When I finally went to bed she calmly waited at the gate for me to allow her up. When I didn’t, she whined at me and watched me climb the stairs. I glanced at her sadly and went to bed.

Two hours later, I awoke and, eyes half closed, headed for the bathroom door. I happened to look down the stairs and she sat there, quietly and patiently, waiting for her boy.

In the morning, I cannot imagine what their reunion was like, but my son has been on his best behavior ever since and she has not left his side. He also has not forgotten a single bit of work since. Sometimes, a reminder of the people we let down by our failures can be the most honest motivator in our lives.

And sometimes people aren’t actually people but the vision of a dog that loves you more than anything standing alone in the dark waiting for you to come for her…

Soft Kitty

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . June 28, 2010 . 12:04AM

Some mornings, this is how I feel about myself when I look in the mirror, too.

Fighting with Yourself