Dog Poop: A Haiku

I love tiny dogs

because tiny dogs make small,

easy to scoop poops.

Guess which one makes the biggest poop?
or
This is why we can't have nice things.

More Stupid Things I Say to My Dog

In case you missed part one, check it out here: Stupid Things I Say to My Dog. Here's some more stupid things I say to my dog:

• "If you have to throw up, then go out in the kitchen! Don't throw up on the carpet!"

• "I lied--I don't actually have a treat for you."

• "Quit eating grass, it's going to make you throw up again."

• "If you eat my plant again, I'm going to skin you."

• "Go ahead and lick your butt. Get the taste of my face out of your mouth."

• Getting dressed: "Shoes! I know clothes excite you. But not as much as they excite your friend Gambit."

• "Slow down and chew your food. You're going to throw it up again."

• "There's nothing scarier than a chihuahua barking under a pile of blankets. Nothing."

• Me: "Are you trying to choke yourself? Quit pulling so hard." Partner: "I didn't know your dog was into auto-erotic asphyxiation."

• "Who's in my butt? Get out of there."

• Going to the pet store to get a doggie rain coat: "I know you're happy now, but you're about to hate me."

He hates his rain coat almost as much as he hates rain.

Stupid Things I Say to My Dog

I live alone with my dog, so naturally I talk to him. A lot. We have some pretty deep conversations. Here are some gems:

• "Do you want a treat? That was a stupid question."
• In the bathroom: "Get out of here; I don't need your help. I can pee by myself. I've been doing it for a long time."
• "It's almost March, so I hope that means it's almost spring. I better not have to wait until April."
• "That would be the correct sentence structure. Not that you care about sentences. You only know five words." *
• "I love kisses. Except the ones that go up my nose."
• After working out: "Yep, lick all the sweat off. Salt is real good. Tastes like Gatorade. Sweat flavored Gatorade."
• "No, if you're not going to pee, then we're going in. I didn't come out here in the snow to chase squirrels."
• As he barks at the neighbors: "You're so ferocious. You just made me shit myself in terror."

He pretty much always has the same response. He tilts his head and looks at me like this:

You talkin' to me?

*He actually knows at least ten words: no, okay, bad, sit, stay, down, out, walk, treat, food, ride, and leave it (which is two words, but he doesn't know that)

Guilt

Living with depression and anxiety comes with a lot of guilt. Up until recently, the main thing I felt guilty about was moving out of my aunt's house while she was in the middle of chemotherapy treatments. Even though she assured me that she would be okay and that she had friends that she could rely on, I felt lousy about it for months.

Then I drove by the trailer where I spent a few months of my childhood while my family was homeless. I was in the area for other reasons and wanted to show my partner a piece of my past. I figured that it had been many years since I had been by there, and I was a little curious if it looked as horrific as I remember it.

The place itself still looked like a hell hole, but how it looked was nothing compared to the memories it drug up. Being told continuously that we (my brother and I) were unwanted and on the verge of being kicked out onto the street (we were about 10 and 12) is what I had remembered from this time; being told that you're going to be "on the outside looking in" is hard to forget. However, I had apparently repressed even worse memories.

The one that haunts me is of our family dog, a rottweiler/lab mix named Bo (named for Bo Diddley). We usually kept Bo inside at our home, but when we moved to the trailer, there wasn't enough room for 12 people as well as our dog (obviously there wasn't even enough room for just the people). Bo stayed outside like the other animals, tied up by himself.

Honestly, I don't know whose responsibility it was to take care of him and make sure he had food and water. All I know is that one day I saw him for the first time in weeks. He was skin and bones - literally starving to death. I can't even imagine the pain he went through during those weeks. It makes me sick just thinking about it.

Bo survived for about another year before he died when I was in 8th grade. I was heartbroken. I had awful dreams about his death. And now I have the weight of guilt. It doesn't matter if his pain and death was my fault or not. It's going to be on my conscience for the rest of my life.

Bo and I at our old home

Fetuses and Doggies and Protesters, Oh My...

I know I shouldn't care about what other people think, but sometimes I have to consider how I present myself and my beliefs, and/or how it reflects on my job.

Let me explain.

If you know anything about me, you know that I'm an outspoken supporter of women's rights and reproductive rights--including abortion. My bumper stickers include a picture of a uterus with the word "Mine," a rainbow that says "If the fetus you save is gay, will you still support its rights?"* and a pink "I Stand With Planned Parenthood."

I also support organizations that rescue homeless and abused animals. I rescued my dog from the Humane Society, and I give money and resources to the local shelters. However, I do not have any SPCA or "Rescue" bumper stickers on my car. I am hesitant to even put a generic dog related sticker on my car.

It's not that I don't feel strongly about saving animals who are homeless or living in abusive situations. It's that I don't want people to think that I care more about animals than I care about "babies," aka fetuses. I can just see one of our protesters taking a picture of the offending bumper stickers and posting it around the internet as "proof" of how terrible Planned Parenthood is: how we don't care about killing "babies" but we care about the poor, homeless dogs.

These are just the things I think about when I'm bored at work.


*This is what my boyfriend calls the "Obligatory Inflammatory Bumper Sticker." I call it calling out the twisted logic of conservatives.

Upward Dog, Downward Dog, and My Dog

I've been practicing yoga on and off for the past six years, and I've recently been trying to practice more regularly. My dog, Peppy, feels the need to "help" me. I think he just likes licking the sweat off my face, but it's adorable nonetheless. I got my boyfriend to take some pictures of me practicing, so that I could see how I was doing some of the poses and how I could improve. Unsurprisingly, Peppy ended up in most of the pictures. Here are a few of them:

Upward dog

Bow pose

Cobbler's pose

Yoga helps me feel a lot better physically and mentally, so I'm going to continue practicing at least 2-3 times per week. Thankfully, my boys are very supportive.