~:B A D * P U P P Y:~
Bad puppy? Bad mother! This morning I slept until 8:30. Cloudy. A little cooler, yes. But I should have known today was going to start out wretched. I get BjornShit out of his crate and the very second we go downstairs and right before I put the leash on him, at the door, he pees right there on the rug. Little fucker. I BAHHHHED him loudly and we went outside. There was a teensy weensy bit of moisture in the air which means, my friends, that pooping will be difficult. Turd courting, A DougieFresh calls it, is not easy for a finicky toy dog. No poop this morning means back into the crate. We tried again after my shower. No luck then, either. I am at a loss. While away at PC critiquing last night, BjornShit had a blast in the living room, peeing and pooping like there was no tomorrow. I found that this morning. So I am not happy. We had a trainer, (who, quite frankly, I am not happy with) come for a few visits. She's from Bark Busters. $400.00 later we are still in the same mess we were in a year ago. I'm just not cut out for this stuff. I am a bad mother. Bjorn's behavior is a direct reaction to my own behavior. That's how it goes between parents and their kids. I am ready to give up.
I had nightmares all last night of aliens attacking the planet and keeping a very watchful eye over me. I kept trying to call Doug, but couldn't get him. They were keeping him away from me. They were watching me and Bimp and waiting for him to be born so they could take him away from me.
"But you can't have him" I said.
"Of course we can. How do you think we got your first one, Anne?"
They took my first. And there's nothing I can do about it. And they're letting my second make it to term before they take him away, too. This helplessness. This fear. I can't stand it.
"WAKE UP, Anne" I said to myself. Wake up I did.
I hate not having control. I hate the unknown. Fuck wonder.