I've only lost money on a return a couple of times. Last summer I bought a life jacket for our dog off Amazon. When it arrived it was slightly too small for her and I had to pay the cost of return shipping. I understood why since it was my fault-I had debated between the two sizes since her measurements were right on the border and went with the smaller size. The smaller size was a couple bucks cheaper and I was trying to save some money, but because I was being cheap I ended up losing money.
The same things applies to dog training (or really any other service)-when you cheap out you get what you pay for. Shortly after we got our dog we decided we should take her to obedience classes. We were really struggling with her anxiety and thought some obedience might help. A guy in town was advertising on the billboard of the gas station and he had great prices. He advertised that he had 25 years of experience and that he had trained police dog and other working canines.
We got in touch and made arrangements to take his Saturday class-which was held half an hour from our home in the grass lot of an abandoned school. It wasn't exactly the nicest area of town and we felt slightly out of place among the other people in the class (who were a bit on the rough side).
The classes themselves were a mess. They weren't conducted professionally and I felt the trainer gave bad advice sometimes. I have experience training animals so I do know something about the subject and a lot of his information was outdated. He had advertised as being a positive reinforcement trainer yet he regularly used prong collars and choke collars. He didn't seem to understand that we really didn't care what our dog learned at that point-we just wanted to get her around people and other dogs without having a panic attack.
We stuck it out even though we felt uneasy. Then the trainers father died and classes were cancelled for several weeks. It was a blessing for us and we realized that this wasn't working. After several weeks I called to request a refund-his phone was shut off and his Facebook page deactivated. I tried to find him, but I gave up rather quickly. He was toxic to the health and safety of my dog.
The next two trainers we had were wonderful! Here are my tips for picking a great one:
1. Do your homework: Don't sign up for the first class you see or the cheapest option. Check around and talk to other people. Ask for references from former clients and ask other pet parents if they've heard of the trainer. If nobody's heard of the person it's probably a poor choice.
2. Get recommendations: Ask your vet, the local shelter, your breeder, pet store employees and random people at the dog park. Our local shelter actually provides basic obedience and it's really cheap! The trainer there was wonderful and really worked with us! Plus we saved money and the money we did pay went back to the shelter to save another dog :) When we were done with basic obedience she was able to refer us to another trainer to do our higher level training.
3. Get multiple recommendations: When we went to the shelter for basic obedience I already knew the trainer there from other community events so I knew she was good. However, when we went to our current trainer I got recommendations from every body I could think of. Her name kept coming up over and over again-plus she worked at the kennel where we boarded our dog already. We knew if our kennel employed her she must be good. Talk to lots of people-usually one name will come up many times-that's the one to research more!
4. Go watch a class: My trainer actually invited me to do this before we started CGC. She wanted to make sure we understood what we were getting into and see her personality. You have to make sure that their philosophy matches yours.
5. Check out their credentials: Check what experience they have, what organizations they are accredited by. A simple Google search for "dog training organizations" brings up a huge list-most of them have databases where you can search for trainers.
6. Pick a trainer in your specialty: Our first trainer focused more on police dogs and bite work rather than obedience and therapy dogs. Because of this his style was a little more rough and tumble than what our dog could handle. Dog trainers that focused on what we actually needed her to do were a much better choice.
7. Do a dry run: Make sure that you take your dog to where ever class will be before class starts. Our trainer at the shelter had our first class at the shelter-it sent our dog into a tailspin of anxiety. This was the shelter she had been adopted from and she was terrified at being back there. We moved other classes to a local park and they went swimmingly.
I'm glad that we had our experience with our first trainer as it made me learn a lot about how to choose a professional (I definitely didn't put that into practice when we bought our couch-see my previous post). I also learned to stand up for my dog and do what's right for her-even if we had to lose some money and make some people angry. However, I wish we had done it right in the first place so we didn't waste several months of time with her.
Showing posts with label responsibility. Show all posts
Showing posts with label responsibility. Show all posts
Sunday, January 25, 2015
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Better Living Through Unnecessary Medical Care
I will freely admit that I am a tad bit of a hypochondriac (DH would say I'm just raging insane-but that's open for debate). When I was growing up my mother would never take me to the doctor-for anything. When I was in middle school I fell down the steps chasing our dog and tore a ligament in my knee. I spent the next week participating in gym class and walking all over school before my mother believed me enough to take me to the doctor. She was pretty embarrassed that she had waited so long (hi mom!-I told you I would get revenge-well here it is). To be fair when my mom fell down the stairs a couple of years ago she actually broke her foot (like swollen, bruised and could feel the bone moving) and she never went to the doctor.
My parents were responsible and loving parents (so no calling the cops or anything), but they understood that I was a tad dramatic so they took my I'm dying claims with a grain of salt. DH still hasn't figured out how panicky I am, so he totally feeds into my crazy. Last year I personally spent $4000 on medical bills and spent months in and out of various doctors. At one point I was driving to a podiatrist 3 hours away from my home because I didn't like the responses I got from any podiatrist in my hometown. I had been having a ton of foot pain in a foot I had previously had surgery on and not one doctor believed me that there was something wrong. They all thought that I was gunning for drugs rather than a solution. Until I finally had surgery in college my foot hurt every single day for as almost 10 years-which was dismissed by every single doctor except one. After an MRI and being told that I would just have to live with pain I hightailed it back to that doctor. After months of tests we discovered that I had an auto-immune disease that was probably causing a large part of my pain. Now that it is being treated my pain is getting better (without narcotics thank you very much!). I do know my own body and sometimes I'm really right-but other times the crazy just kind of takes over.
Case in point: Sophomore year of college I woke up with a large lump on my eyelid. There wasn't any pus or any thing so where did my mind immediately jump? I decided I had eye cancer and rushed off to student health accordingly. The doctor seemed to have trouble keeping a straight face as I explained that I had eye cancer and would probably need chemo. This was the same doctor that was tasked with dealing with me previously for swine flu (probably not), severe flu (also not severe, but was given IV fluids just to shut me up) and several other ailments that were deadly at the time.
He took one look at my eye and calmly stated that I had a stye on the underside of my eyelid. He told me to wear my glasses until it popped on its own and to stop sleeping in my contacts. I wasn't convinced and left the doctor in a huff-"How could he be so insensitive to my fears?" I raged at my mother on the phone as I begged her to book me an appointment with the nearest oncologist. Luckily my mother has had tons of experience talking me down off ledges so she convinced me to wait a week until starting my cancer regime. She also talked me into applying a hot towel to my eye to speed up the process. A few days later the eye cancer was gone and once again my mother was right.
All of this leads back to my emergency room visit I alluded to a few days ago. I woke up on the Sunday before school started with a ton of back pain. For once my crazy didn't really kick in and I laid around in bed on a heating pad all day. Basically I used it as an excuse to get DH to rub my back and to not do any Sunday chores. I didn't call my mom all day (which is super unusual) because I felt so terrible. I knew I had to go to work the next day so I was really hoping I would feel better. DH spent most of the day shoveling snow without realizing how terrible I was feeling. When I finally decided that I should probably be seen by a doctor all the walk in care clinics were closed. Instead of rushing off to the ER I made the smart choice to call the on-call doctor to see if it could wait until the next day-he said we should come in.
When I can actually make smart health care decisions or when I wait to go to the doctor I usually wind up to be actually pretty sick. When I have the time and mental abilities to come up with my crazy scenarios it's usually something that's no big deal. I fully expected that this would actually be something serious-my back was really killing me at this point. I've had some pretty bad injuries and this was worse than anything I've ever experienced. It was right in the area of my kidneys so I totally expected a kidney stone or something like that.
The ER was slow, but I really didn't care until I got back to the room. We got triaged and taken back and then we waited FOREVER for a nurse to show up. Once she had taken vital and a urine sample she swept out and we were left alone for another hour. A PA shows up and explains that they had run some tests and I didn't have an infection-they wanted to order a CT scan to check out my kidneys. She also stated that she would get me some pain medication since at this point I was white as a sheet and writhing around trying to get comfortable (quietly so I didn't make a scene of course). We agreed and she left-it was another hour before the nurse came back to start my IV-and she didn't bring the promised pain medication. She did a great job getting the IV in quickly as I squeezed my eyes shut (I don't have a fear of needles, but I do pass out at the sight of blood-I can handle animal blood just not human blood-yes it's odd). DH asked very politely if she could get us a bandage or a wrap to cover the IV so I didn't have to look at the blood in it and she said she would. I was taken away for my CT scan shortly after that which went well and was over quickly. They used the strange dye that makes you feel like you're peeing yourself.
Just a warning for anyone who has to get the contrast dye-IT REALLY WILL FEEL LIKE YOU'RE PEEING YOURSELF! I was told this multiple times and I didn't really believe them. I was more focused on the fact that they told me it would make me feel warm-I was freezing to death so that sounded like a welcome side effect. The very nice radiologist came and got me from my room to take me for the CT scan. It was super embarrassing to be rolled through the waiting room in my hospital bed while wearing my super revealing hospital gown (that I hadn't let DH tie so he could rub my back). Of course one of my former students was in the waiting room with his family-he seemed to get a good laugh out of it. When we got the room I correctly assumed that I should lie on the table by the machine and went to get up-at the same time the radiologist reached out to help me up and he managed to totally grab my boob!
The poor guy turned bright red and I'm pretty sure he expected a screaming fit and a lawsuit. He seemed a bit taken aback when I made a VERY terrible joke (that I won't repeat) and started laughing. He apologized about a million times, but it wasn't that big of deal. When he injected the dye I was still giggling inwardly and then all of the sudden I was peeing myself. I shared this with the radiologist and he assured me that I wasn't. By this point crazy anxiety brain had taken over and I was convinced that I did pee myself.
Once we were done he rolled me back to my room and I still felt a little funny from the dye. The first words out of my mouth when I rejoined DH? "The radiologist grabbed my boob-can you check and see if I peed myself?" DH is actually a good sport (and a GREAT husband) because he checked and confirmed that I hadn't made a huge mess and he cracked up at the story. It took another few hours, but I finally got my pain medicine (3 hours after I was told I would get it and 30 minutes before we were allowed to leave).
So what was wrong? I was having an allergic reaction to a new medicine that I had started taking for my autoimmune disease. The shot of morphine they gave me before discharging me made me totally drunk, but didn't touch the back pain. It wasn't until I had skipped 2 doses of the medicine before the pain started to go away-no matter how many muscle relaxers and pain pills I took.
My lesson from all of this is a surprising one-my mother was RIGHT. It feels like every time I go to the doctor for one thing the medicine or the procedure causes another thing. Medical care is like the Domino theory except with ER visits instead of Communist Governments. My mom has a theory that if you never go to the doctor you never get sick. I think all my illnesses have come about from exposing myself to germs and medical care. My goal for 2015 is to avoid as much medical care as possible since if I get any sicker I'll probably die and that would be unfortunate. Is there a name for a hypochondriac that avoids medical care (besides lunatic)?
My parents were responsible and loving parents (so no calling the cops or anything), but they understood that I was a tad dramatic so they took my I'm dying claims with a grain of salt. DH still hasn't figured out how panicky I am, so he totally feeds into my crazy. Last year I personally spent $4000 on medical bills and spent months in and out of various doctors. At one point I was driving to a podiatrist 3 hours away from my home because I didn't like the responses I got from any podiatrist in my hometown. I had been having a ton of foot pain in a foot I had previously had surgery on and not one doctor believed me that there was something wrong. They all thought that I was gunning for drugs rather than a solution. Until I finally had surgery in college my foot hurt every single day for as almost 10 years-which was dismissed by every single doctor except one. After an MRI and being told that I would just have to live with pain I hightailed it back to that doctor. After months of tests we discovered that I had an auto-immune disease that was probably causing a large part of my pain. Now that it is being treated my pain is getting better (without narcotics thank you very much!). I do know my own body and sometimes I'm really right-but other times the crazy just kind of takes over.
Case in point: Sophomore year of college I woke up with a large lump on my eyelid. There wasn't any pus or any thing so where did my mind immediately jump? I decided I had eye cancer and rushed off to student health accordingly. The doctor seemed to have trouble keeping a straight face as I explained that I had eye cancer and would probably need chemo. This was the same doctor that was tasked with dealing with me previously for swine flu (probably not), severe flu (also not severe, but was given IV fluids just to shut me up) and several other ailments that were deadly at the time.
He took one look at my eye and calmly stated that I had a stye on the underside of my eyelid. He told me to wear my glasses until it popped on its own and to stop sleeping in my contacts. I wasn't convinced and left the doctor in a huff-"How could he be so insensitive to my fears?" I raged at my mother on the phone as I begged her to book me an appointment with the nearest oncologist. Luckily my mother has had tons of experience talking me down off ledges so she convinced me to wait a week until starting my cancer regime. She also talked me into applying a hot towel to my eye to speed up the process. A few days later the eye cancer was gone and once again my mother was right.
All of this leads back to my emergency room visit I alluded to a few days ago. I woke up on the Sunday before school started with a ton of back pain. For once my crazy didn't really kick in and I laid around in bed on a heating pad all day. Basically I used it as an excuse to get DH to rub my back and to not do any Sunday chores. I didn't call my mom all day (which is super unusual) because I felt so terrible. I knew I had to go to work the next day so I was really hoping I would feel better. DH spent most of the day shoveling snow without realizing how terrible I was feeling. When I finally decided that I should probably be seen by a doctor all the walk in care clinics were closed. Instead of rushing off to the ER I made the smart choice to call the on-call doctor to see if it could wait until the next day-he said we should come in.
When I can actually make smart health care decisions or when I wait to go to the doctor I usually wind up to be actually pretty sick. When I have the time and mental abilities to come up with my crazy scenarios it's usually something that's no big deal. I fully expected that this would actually be something serious-my back was really killing me at this point. I've had some pretty bad injuries and this was worse than anything I've ever experienced. It was right in the area of my kidneys so I totally expected a kidney stone or something like that.
The ER was slow, but I really didn't care until I got back to the room. We got triaged and taken back and then we waited FOREVER for a nurse to show up. Once she had taken vital and a urine sample she swept out and we were left alone for another hour. A PA shows up and explains that they had run some tests and I didn't have an infection-they wanted to order a CT scan to check out my kidneys. She also stated that she would get me some pain medication since at this point I was white as a sheet and writhing around trying to get comfortable (quietly so I didn't make a scene of course). We agreed and she left-it was another hour before the nurse came back to start my IV-and she didn't bring the promised pain medication. She did a great job getting the IV in quickly as I squeezed my eyes shut (I don't have a fear of needles, but I do pass out at the sight of blood-I can handle animal blood just not human blood-yes it's odd). DH asked very politely if she could get us a bandage or a wrap to cover the IV so I didn't have to look at the blood in it and she said she would. I was taken away for my CT scan shortly after that which went well and was over quickly. They used the strange dye that makes you feel like you're peeing yourself.
Just a warning for anyone who has to get the contrast dye-IT REALLY WILL FEEL LIKE YOU'RE PEEING YOURSELF! I was told this multiple times and I didn't really believe them. I was more focused on the fact that they told me it would make me feel warm-I was freezing to death so that sounded like a welcome side effect. The very nice radiologist came and got me from my room to take me for the CT scan. It was super embarrassing to be rolled through the waiting room in my hospital bed while wearing my super revealing hospital gown (that I hadn't let DH tie so he could rub my back). Of course one of my former students was in the waiting room with his family-he seemed to get a good laugh out of it. When we got the room I correctly assumed that I should lie on the table by the machine and went to get up-at the same time the radiologist reached out to help me up and he managed to totally grab my boob!
The poor guy turned bright red and I'm pretty sure he expected a screaming fit and a lawsuit. He seemed a bit taken aback when I made a VERY terrible joke (that I won't repeat) and started laughing. He apologized about a million times, but it wasn't that big of deal. When he injected the dye I was still giggling inwardly and then all of the sudden I was peeing myself. I shared this with the radiologist and he assured me that I wasn't. By this point crazy anxiety brain had taken over and I was convinced that I did pee myself.
Once we were done he rolled me back to my room and I still felt a little funny from the dye. The first words out of my mouth when I rejoined DH? "The radiologist grabbed my boob-can you check and see if I peed myself?" DH is actually a good sport (and a GREAT husband) because he checked and confirmed that I hadn't made a huge mess and he cracked up at the story. It took another few hours, but I finally got my pain medicine (3 hours after I was told I would get it and 30 minutes before we were allowed to leave).
So what was wrong? I was having an allergic reaction to a new medicine that I had started taking for my autoimmune disease. The shot of morphine they gave me before discharging me made me totally drunk, but didn't touch the back pain. It wasn't until I had skipped 2 doses of the medicine before the pain started to go away-no matter how many muscle relaxers and pain pills I took.
My lesson from all of this is a surprising one-my mother was RIGHT. It feels like every time I go to the doctor for one thing the medicine or the procedure causes another thing. Medical care is like the Domino theory except with ER visits instead of Communist Governments. My mom has a theory that if you never go to the doctor you never get sick. I think all my illnesses have come about from exposing myself to germs and medical care. My goal for 2015 is to avoid as much medical care as possible since if I get any sicker I'll probably die and that would be unfortunate. Is there a name for a hypochondriac that avoids medical care (besides lunatic)?
Friday, January 9, 2015
An open letter to my dog's former owner
Almost two years ago you made a choice-you made the choice to take the puppy you had owned for 4 whole months to the animal shelter and leave her there. I don't know what prompted the choice you made and your reasoning behind the decision. Maybe you felt that you were making the right choice and the best choice-and in a way you were. The dog you dumped was lucky-she found a home, a good, loving home unlike so many other dogs who end up in shelters. In a way I should be thanking you because if you hadn't made the choice you did I wouldn't have found my soulmate and my best friend.
According to the paperwork you filled out (which you allowed to be shared with me) you are a single mom with three kids. You already owned 2 dogs when you brought mine home-the timing tells me she was probably an ill thought out Christmas present. I imagine your life is pretty busy-what made you think you had time raise another living being on top of the five you were already raising? I struggle to raise just a dog at times-I can't imagine having your life.
We know she was mistreated and we know she's hand shy. We also know that one of the worst forms of mistreatment is the neglect you heaped on her. Puppies are A LOT of work-in order for them to grow up to be well behaved dogs they must be trained, socialized, taken to vet and they take time and money. She wasn't socialized and that led to anxiety about new situations and people. She wasn't taken to the vet. No wonder you had problems with her.
When you dumped her you stated that there was nothing that could happen that would make you want to keep the dog. You said she had accidents on the floor, ran away sometimes (so you tied her up outside) and chewed on things. Might I point out that she was a 6 month old puppy? 6 month old puppies tend to chew on thing (to relieve teething pain or to relieve boredom), they have small bladders and they physically can't hold it-they must be taught and trained. To a dog the rug is a perfectly appropriate place to go to the bathroom until they are taught differently. A dog that is bored and allowed outside with no restraint will run away (trust me I learned that through experience). You stated that she threw up in the car-when your only experience with the car is scary situations (like leaving your mom or going to the animal shelter) you would probably throw up to. Puppies tend to get sick just like kids-the sensation of being in a car is a new one and they have to get used to it. Essentially you didn't have time for her and when the problems became too great you left her. After all she's just a dog and you can always find another free dog on Craigslist. You took a chance that because she was young and cute she would get a home and you did happen to be right.
You got rid of your problem and I have spent the past 2 years working to fix the problems YOU created. I won't let you duck responsibility for your actions-YOU made these problems and YOU left a mess for someone else to clean up.
When she came to us she was 15 pounds underweight. The first thing I did was take her to the vet to update any vaccines she needed and get her checked out. Once she finally had a reliable source of food she started to gain the weight again. I spent months working on finishing her potty training and working with her accidents. I bought more Nature's Miracle and paper towels than I care to admit. When she was left alone she chewed on our door frames, walls, shoes and anything else she could get her teeth into. Once again I paid the vet bill to find out this was not normal puppy chewing-this was separation anxiety. Experts think that separation anxiety is partially genetic so you're off the hook for that one, but I'm not sure that the environment she was living in helped her to feel secure. I paid for the medicine and spent months working on a desensitizing program. We worked our way up to now-she can stay alone for 8-9 hours with no anti-anxiety medicine. It took us almost 2 years to get to this point-in the beginning it was only 30 seconds. We realized her accidents that you so bitterly complained about were a symptom of her disease rather than willful defiance. She was just so utterly thrilled that we returned that she just couldn't contain herself any longer. As her anxiety decreased (and she grew up and gained bladder control) her accidents became less and less. Now they are pretty much a distant memory-all it took was time and patience.
When she got sick from eating drywall it was me who paid the expensive vet bill. Sacrifices were made that month in order to pay it, but it was paid and she got better. It was me who took 2 days off work, 2 days I really didn't have time to take, to take care of her. I was the one who woke up every two hours to give her the medicine she needed. I was the one who cleaned up after her when she lost control of her bowels in the middle of the night. She still got hugs and kisses even though she had made a mess.
I spent months unable to go on a date with my husband or even go grocery shopping without coming home to destruction. We gave up our social life and did the errands in shifts so she wouldn't have to be alone unless it was absolutely necessary. Our times away from the house consisted of work (where I worried about her all day), obedience class and drives around the block to get her used to the car.
We put in the time with her and we have been richly rewarded. She's funny, silly, messy, smart and loyal. She is my best friend and without her a little piece of my heart would be missing. When DH travels I no longer come home to a cold, empty house. I come home to endless unconditional love and a dog who loves to snuggle. When it's 8 degrees outside I have a foot warmer and she never has to worry about spending a night alone in the cold. She loves rides in the car now and I don't think I've been on more random country drives in my life. It makes her happy to watch the scenery and smell the smells. I can go to work, go on a date and travel again-but when I leave her I feel like there is something missing.
Essentially I have what everyone wants when they adopt a dog-a best friend. I assume that is probably what you wanted when you answered that internet ad. If you had been willing to put in the time and energy that is what you would have received, instead you gave up. The dog you gave up is not going to give her love away for free-she has to trust you and you have to show her that you are worthy for her to love you. You didn't take the time to build that bond and you were the one who lost out on one of the best dogs I've ever met.
I think about you a lot and I wonder if I could ever make the decision that you made. I envision scenarios where DH and I are broke and living out of our car. I envision DH and I dying. Somehow in every worst case scenario I can come up with I can't come up with one that would require us to put her back into a shelter. If we're alive we will find a way to care for her-if I gave her up it would be like giving up a piece of me and I couldn't do that to her. If we die we've made arrangements for her to be cared for. There is no way she will ever find herself in another bad situation. I think a lot about the day that she passes away-I know it will come and it devastates me to think about it. However, I know when she does take her last breath we will be there with her. To the very end she will know she was loved and when that day does come it will break my heart. However, I will be able to take comfort in the fact that she will have had a good life and we will have done the best we can for her.
In a way I'm happy you made the decision that you made because you gave me the piece of me I didn't know was missing. Yet I can't help but to be angry with you for giving up on her and for not seeing the dog I see. I mourn for your children who had to experience that loss and the fact that they have now learned that animals are disposable and when you get in over your head it's okay to pass that problem off to someone else. I'm angry that we don't have laws in place that would prevent you from ever owning another animal-from creating the same problems again and again. I can only hope that you learned something from your experience and that the other animals left in your care are being treated better than mine was. I have to thank you for giving me the best gift I've ever received, but I realize I'm the one who did the work. I earned her love and respect-something you never could do.
According to the paperwork you filled out (which you allowed to be shared with me) you are a single mom with three kids. You already owned 2 dogs when you brought mine home-the timing tells me she was probably an ill thought out Christmas present. I imagine your life is pretty busy-what made you think you had time raise another living being on top of the five you were already raising? I struggle to raise just a dog at times-I can't imagine having your life.
We know she was mistreated and we know she's hand shy. We also know that one of the worst forms of mistreatment is the neglect you heaped on her. Puppies are A LOT of work-in order for them to grow up to be well behaved dogs they must be trained, socialized, taken to vet and they take time and money. She wasn't socialized and that led to anxiety about new situations and people. She wasn't taken to the vet. No wonder you had problems with her.
When you dumped her you stated that there was nothing that could happen that would make you want to keep the dog. You said she had accidents on the floor, ran away sometimes (so you tied her up outside) and chewed on things. Might I point out that she was a 6 month old puppy? 6 month old puppies tend to chew on thing (to relieve teething pain or to relieve boredom), they have small bladders and they physically can't hold it-they must be taught and trained. To a dog the rug is a perfectly appropriate place to go to the bathroom until they are taught differently. A dog that is bored and allowed outside with no restraint will run away (trust me I learned that through experience). You stated that she threw up in the car-when your only experience with the car is scary situations (like leaving your mom or going to the animal shelter) you would probably throw up to. Puppies tend to get sick just like kids-the sensation of being in a car is a new one and they have to get used to it. Essentially you didn't have time for her and when the problems became too great you left her. After all she's just a dog and you can always find another free dog on Craigslist. You took a chance that because she was young and cute she would get a home and you did happen to be right.
You got rid of your problem and I have spent the past 2 years working to fix the problems YOU created. I won't let you duck responsibility for your actions-YOU made these problems and YOU left a mess for someone else to clean up.
When she came to us she was 15 pounds underweight. The first thing I did was take her to the vet to update any vaccines she needed and get her checked out. Once she finally had a reliable source of food she started to gain the weight again. I spent months working on finishing her potty training and working with her accidents. I bought more Nature's Miracle and paper towels than I care to admit. When she was left alone she chewed on our door frames, walls, shoes and anything else she could get her teeth into. Once again I paid the vet bill to find out this was not normal puppy chewing-this was separation anxiety. Experts think that separation anxiety is partially genetic so you're off the hook for that one, but I'm not sure that the environment she was living in helped her to feel secure. I paid for the medicine and spent months working on a desensitizing program. We worked our way up to now-she can stay alone for 8-9 hours with no anti-anxiety medicine. It took us almost 2 years to get to this point-in the beginning it was only 30 seconds. We realized her accidents that you so bitterly complained about were a symptom of her disease rather than willful defiance. She was just so utterly thrilled that we returned that she just couldn't contain herself any longer. As her anxiety decreased (and she grew up and gained bladder control) her accidents became less and less. Now they are pretty much a distant memory-all it took was time and patience.
When she got sick from eating drywall it was me who paid the expensive vet bill. Sacrifices were made that month in order to pay it, but it was paid and she got better. It was me who took 2 days off work, 2 days I really didn't have time to take, to take care of her. I was the one who woke up every two hours to give her the medicine she needed. I was the one who cleaned up after her when she lost control of her bowels in the middle of the night. She still got hugs and kisses even though she had made a mess.
I spent months unable to go on a date with my husband or even go grocery shopping without coming home to destruction. We gave up our social life and did the errands in shifts so she wouldn't have to be alone unless it was absolutely necessary. Our times away from the house consisted of work (where I worried about her all day), obedience class and drives around the block to get her used to the car.
We put in the time with her and we have been richly rewarded. She's funny, silly, messy, smart and loyal. She is my best friend and without her a little piece of my heart would be missing. When DH travels I no longer come home to a cold, empty house. I come home to endless unconditional love and a dog who loves to snuggle. When it's 8 degrees outside I have a foot warmer and she never has to worry about spending a night alone in the cold. She loves rides in the car now and I don't think I've been on more random country drives in my life. It makes her happy to watch the scenery and smell the smells. I can go to work, go on a date and travel again-but when I leave her I feel like there is something missing.
Essentially I have what everyone wants when they adopt a dog-a best friend. I assume that is probably what you wanted when you answered that internet ad. If you had been willing to put in the time and energy that is what you would have received, instead you gave up. The dog you gave up is not going to give her love away for free-she has to trust you and you have to show her that you are worthy for her to love you. You didn't take the time to build that bond and you were the one who lost out on one of the best dogs I've ever met.
I think about you a lot and I wonder if I could ever make the decision that you made. I envision scenarios where DH and I are broke and living out of our car. I envision DH and I dying. Somehow in every worst case scenario I can come up with I can't come up with one that would require us to put her back into a shelter. If we're alive we will find a way to care for her-if I gave her up it would be like giving up a piece of me and I couldn't do that to her. If we die we've made arrangements for her to be cared for. There is no way she will ever find herself in another bad situation. I think a lot about the day that she passes away-I know it will come and it devastates me to think about it. However, I know when she does take her last breath we will be there with her. To the very end she will know she was loved and when that day does come it will break my heart. However, I will be able to take comfort in the fact that she will have had a good life and we will have done the best we can for her.
In a way I'm happy you made the decision that you made because you gave me the piece of me I didn't know was missing. Yet I can't help but to be angry with you for giving up on her and for not seeing the dog I see. I mourn for your children who had to experience that loss and the fact that they have now learned that animals are disposable and when you get in over your head it's okay to pass that problem off to someone else. I'm angry that we don't have laws in place that would prevent you from ever owning another animal-from creating the same problems again and again. I can only hope that you learned something from your experience and that the other animals left in your care are being treated better than mine was. I have to thank you for giving me the best gift I've ever received, but I realize I'm the one who did the work. I earned her love and respect-something you never could do.
She's happy and loved now-and for that you should be thankful.
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