He Is Not Your Dog

I have spent two years hearing how this adorable daschund our Andy managed to adopt (thank you first wife) is not our dog, but Andy’s.

Now, no where in there do I mention how this dog suddenly became fully ours two years ago, how when we got him he was stuffed to the gills and wheezing, or what I had to go through to get him healthy, or how when we got him Mitch had just walked out of his job to start a new firm and how my income was really the only guaranteed income we had at the time or how we even borrowed the start-up money from my parents all the while holding down all of our expense and a new addition, with just my salary….. NO!

Nowhere do I mention how we are now fully and financially responsible for this pure-breed heap of something the first wife wanted but once she managed to F&%$K-UP her 4^th marriage and was being foreclosed on and destined for a cheap apartment and could no longer afford nor have the pup, how we, out of the love and kindness of our hearts took on this dog for what was suppose to be 6 months tops!!!! NO!!!

I simply mention that I was told for two years that this was not “our dog”… aka “my dog.”

Now I say “my dog” because lets face it women build the home, we are the momma-bears and every living thing under that roof is guarded and loved-on by us momma-bears. Well for two years, while Andy was not around, Mitch would manage to catch me loving on “my boys” (Romeo our 14 year old cat, Charlie our 2 year old terrier mix, and now Tremor our 5 year old daschund) and remind me that Tremor is not “my boy” but Andy’s… So for two years I played a wonderful game of attach, detach, attach, detach, love him to death, try to separate, attach, detach…. FUN!!!!!! He was so “my boy” that when we went on vacations do you want to know who took care of Andy’s dog…. My parents; my parents whom Mitch’s kids have refused to meet!!!! My family cared for a dog I never got to remotely claim as “my dog” without being corrected on whose dog he actually was.

Why am I so bitter now after all this time you ask? Well that is simple really, you see right when I had my surgery we came home to “my boys,” because again the “kids” didn’t know I was having surgery, and found Tremor acting a little off; sadly I was too drugged to really pay attention, however over the next couple of days as I recovered he worsened, and this morning he woke-up without any use of his back legs. A trip to the vet revealed he has IVDD (Intervertebral Disk Disease). So what do I do? I jump into mommy mode and am on the doctors with a hundred questions and am ready to spend anything to make “my baby boy” better (I know, I am super attached to my furry babies but after 3 miscarriages you do not get to judge!!!), but then the inevitable "he is Andy’s dog" comes into play and I find myself finally hearing it this time.

I take a step back, okay I get it now! I will get him healthy (over the next 2 months) and he will go home with Andy and the first wife; okay, I can handle that. I can wrap my brain around that, only that is not that…. NO! Now hours later (10pm to be precise) Mitch and I get into a fight because now he is upset that “our boy” is possibly in pain and in a hospital and we don’t know how he will be tomorrow!!!! ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME!?!?!?! Now we get to be attached?!?!?!? Now he is “our dog”?!?!?!?

I am stewing!

For two years I have played this sick yo-yo game, today I cried and held a shaking, paralyzed dog that I am seriously attached too, and tonight he wants to fight me because I finally heard him and I am not willing to tell him what “in an ideal world I would like to hear.” Really?!?!? Like I am stupid enough to walk into that double edged sword/booby-trap! So then what happens, he gets mad at me for not talking about it, because I am “the talker!”

There is no wining this one!

Second Wife Drama, it never ends, it changes its shape and form sometimes, but it rears its ugly head just when things seem to be moving along too nicely or quietly.