Dog Gone.

Well, not quite yet.  We'll get to that.  Suffice it to say for now that I feel like a really, horribly bad person.

But I'm (partially) filled with the feel good!  My usual station on my shower radio got bumped this morning to one of those 'Jack' stations, and in my groggy haze I didn't question why my favorite call numbers would be blaring 'Dancing Queen.'  And tonight it was one of the last songs at the game, musical bookends to my day.  And so funky!

The Padres, having clinched the division championship last night, thought it would be fun to take a scoreless game into extra innings.  Yey!  But as it was my first time at the new stadium and my first night out with Frank in a month, the view of the city and the pull of obnoxiousness (and wine.  and beer.) kept me from getting over excited from inning after inning of nada.  The Giants said 'screw it' in the 11th, let the Padres win and everyone got to go home.  Eventually.

First surfed the trolley back to our cars and kidnapped Frank to the Zombie where I knew I could get a drink-sized shot for $1.75 and whatever I could scrounge there.  Then, Frank kidnapped me to the Whistle Stop where I wasn't drunk enough to feel like I knew anyone there.  Even though I did.  I'm off my game.

And I come home and make myself the comfort food of all comfort foods.  A Banquet salsbury steak TV dinner.  The most vile of the vile, while somehow at the same time being as warming and comforting as a pull of whiskey.  Cheap, dirty whiskey. 

But here's the deal.  I love my dog.  But it's time for him to go.  The people we got him from said that they would take him back under any circumstance, and I'm hoping now they'll return my call.  Every day I'm afraid that he'll knock over the baby gate we have up and kill my cat.  It's beyond the point of something he'll grow out of and we've tried everything we can think of.  I've posted ads on craigslist and used everyone's advice to no avail.  I can't keep living with a gate dividing my house, my cat usually too afraid to come out of our room.  My first responsability (beyond myself and my familly) is to her.  Being barked at is one thing, but being physically threatened, pinned, something else.  Plus, I know that Adam isn't willing to bring the dog to Japan.  And I really don't want Jeremy losing his dog and his daddy all at the same time.  I feel like I'm justifying this to myself, but I've been thinking most of this the whole time we've had him.  And it's time for me to stop feeling so damn guilty every day about the situation I'm putting my other pet and myself into.

Either way, I feel like a really, really bad person and a failure.  But there's no fixing this.  None.

There's also no fixing the fact that it's after 1 and I've got an early class tomorrow.  Yey minimal functionality!  Yey Dancing Queen!

Comments

[happypants]

I was up past one too, but for different reasons... God =AnnA=... you and your guilt are insane! you're worse than me in some areas, and that is a chore, trust me. have no remorse, you enjoyed the dog for a while, he enjoyed you, now send him off before the cat you enjoy gets eaten, and your voice becomes perma-hoarse from screaming at him to shut-up. when you get back from Japan you can always get a puppy, and teach him to like little cute pookie. yeah. well I am off to nap for a bit, and then head down your way! YEY!

[=AnnA=]

Naw, my plan is:

Get rid of dog.
Let Pookie die of natural causes sometime between 5-10 years from now.
Grieve.
Get several puppies and kittens all at the same time so they can learn to live in rainbow harmony with eachother.
Let them breed and become Crazy Cat Lady.
Die from contaminated...well, everything.

[Melody]

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