I am obviously not meant to be a pet owner. I am way too emotional about it. Even when I had my cat, when she'd go in for shots and get freaked out, the vet would ask me to leave the room because MY emotions were too much. (Today, the vet was worried I was going to pass out.)
Then came Sophie. Our perfect little Yorkie-Chihuahua mix. I loved her soooo much. But, she got into some dental floss Jack had played with and ate it. It ended up killing her. I was inconsolable. Hysterical when I had to tell the vet it was okay to put her down. (The damage to her intestines was too much.)
And yet, I agreed to get two more pups. The cutest little Schnauzer-Papillon mixes. Pepper, a blonde, was named for Pepper Potts of IronMan fame. I named the dark one Paisley, because I like the alliteration. The name is one I love but knew Wayne'd never let me use for a baby (should we ever have a girl).
Between the dog hair on every surface, the digging in the backyard, and the constant play fighting, they've been driving me nuts. But, I kept thinking, it's okay - we'll get them trained and it'll be okay.
Until today. They both went in for their spay on Wednesday. Paisley got her soft collar (to prevent licking at the incision) off and ripped herself open while I was gone for 30 minutes. Her omentum was coming out of the incision. Trust me when I say that is not something anyone ever needs to see. I flipped out, called Wayne, and called the vet clinic where we had the surgeries done. In the meantime, she got blood everywhere. (More freaking out on my part ensued.) Wayne came home and helped me take her to the vet. She cost over $100 there, and will be another $100 at the clinic where the original surgery was done. (At our vet, it'd have been around $600 to fix her.)
As much as I love them (and it's not as much as I loved Sophie), I can't do it anymore. The worrying. The having to be home all the time. Having to get up early in the morning (or in the middle of the night) because they're crying. Even listening to their whining is wearing on me. The outrageous amounts of money we spend on them for the best dog food (Wellness Small Breed Puppy - $16 for a bag that lasts 2 weeks), dog toys, bones, treats (also Wellness), crates, beds (Pepper's was $55 because she likes to eat beds and this one is indestructible), groomer, and, of course, vet visits.
Aside from the money, though, is the stress. Finding another thing they've torn up. Worrying if they'll get sick from it. Worrying about them getting out of the backyard. Trying to find someone to check on them if we want to go to Tucson for the day, or paying to have them kenneled if we're gone for a weekend.
Given how hard it is for me to be happy on a daily basis right now, I just cannot take the stress anymore. And don't even get me started on how emotional I am about it all! It's amazing how much I've cried today, considering how annoyed I am with Paisley most days.
I am just not equipped to deal with being a pet mommy. It's hard enough for me to keep the house clean and be a kid's mommy. (Not that I have any of the above issues with Jack... well, the whining has got to stop. LOL) So, we're re-homing the puppies. And it's curious to find that I feel shame at that. I guess I just don't want to let anyone down - human or not.
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