I’m a fairly glass is half-full type of person. I’ve been knocked down more times than I can count, dealt with an amazing array crap, and still have usually been able to bounce back, keep it together, not completely lose it.

Enter, the beast. He’s a puppy really, let’s call him Boozer. Boozer is a 40lb missle, yes in just 5 months he went from less than 5 lbs. To a 40 lb, deaf missle. I say deaf in that he chooses not to hear a damn thing you say, yell, scream, threaten for the entire neighborhood to judge you on. Yes, we’ve become “The Yellers”. As in, “oh look honey, the Yellers got back from vacation….there’s Boozer”

To date he’s destroyed:

Shoes
a rug
attempted stuffed rabbit destruction
an easel
a borrowed couch (Dear God, please don’t let my mother-in-law read this)
hair pins
countless underwear ( I really don’t get it)
Socks (My God the socks

The general air we breathe  (I don’t understand how a dog can produce such noxious fumes)

Peanut’s pants, shirt, socks

Bacon’s pants
MY Pants!

He’s peed on every square inch of the floor, the rugs, my leg, Bacon’s leg, Peanut’s leg, Peanut’s mom’s leg, pretty much everywhere EXCEPT a fire hydrant.

Now this isn’t just a rant about my big dumb dog, who by the way is SUPPOSED to be the smartest of dogs. No, this is a dark time for me, that I am only now coming out of.

There came a point in our new life with this beast where I gave up. I couldn’t take the stress of work, Peanut, The X, the drama, and now this. damn. dog.

I hated him. Do you have any idea how awful and crappy that makes a person feel? To hate an animal. Thats pretty dark. It wasn’t his fault, and I avoided him at all costs. If I’m being honest it was during this time that I avoided my entire family at all costs. I stayed late at work (Sometimes actually by choice) because I couldn’t face them, I was worried my head would explode and irreparable damage would come vomiting out of my mouth. Yep. This is the lowest I’ve ever gone. I wasn’t just violently face-planting off a building into the bottom of an emotional barrel; I carefully and lovingly created the barrel, measured the distance, and attempted a swan dive into it.

So, how did I peel my face from the scratchy, weather-worn, hardened planks at the bottom of my emotional pit? I didn’t. I’m not out yet. But, I did go back to see my therapist. I did reach out and call my best friend. I did go see my sister. I did let my mom in on how low I really was. And in the end, ultimately, I took a real time out from everyone for four hours (ON family movie night) and I started to paint again.

I’m a real person.

I’m a real mom.

I have a pretty dark side.

(I regret installing a string of bells for Boozer to ring when he has to go outside, as that is my background music as I write this

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