Try Not to Bite Me Mr Poop

This is a Sad Story.  I just wanted to warn you up front.

This is a Picture of Mr Poop:

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This is a picture of him at the Starbucks in Key West.  He is quite a little celebrity.  So many people have taken pictures of him it’s not even funny.  He has always been such a well behaved dog, a pure charmer.  He used to belong to my Late Father.  My dad would take him all over on these long car rides every day.  They would go in my dad’s big Dodge 2500 and Poop would just sleep somewhere and make a fat mess, because that’s what he’s good at.  He has always been my dog though, since I had to help raise him, so we have been buddies since he was pretty much a little Mr Poop.  I remember picking him up from the Michigan State Animal Hospital where he was shipped in from Minnesota.  The girls at the pick up place were like, “he’s a little charmer!” and here was this little Mr Poop in his little kennel they shipped him in, and you could just see he was happy and playful!

After my father passed away I took good care of him, we have been so many places from living in the middle of the forest and off a lake in Michigan, to Detroit, to Key West, Miami, Chicago…  All of these places.  He’s been with me through so many girlfriends, like it seems like Ancient History, and it kind of is.  He’s 11 years old for an English Bulldog.  That is like Ancient.  I know some dog’s live to like 15 or whatever but bulldogs are a bundle of problems from day 1.  This guy had eye problems for a long time. We really did  our best to keep him in good vision but a couple of years ago his eyes started showing signs of going a little cloudy.  Of course it was gradual.  Over time I did my best to spoil him.  We went on walkabouts in the Keys – like Big Treks.  He eats like a king.  just today he had one of his favorite snacks, Chicken Skin off a roasted chicken.  Sometimes if I ran out of food and couldn’t get to the store what do you think he would get?  Probably something like 6 jumbo eggs cooked, cooled a little and then just dumped into his bowl.  Or maybe he would get a big bowl of pasta.

He’s been there through the good times and the bad.  He used to sleep with me all the time.  Until a few months ago, he started to change a little.  It was minor at first but it has gotten worse and worse over time.  One night he would just growl, usually only for a couple minutes, then he would be cool again.  Then it was happening every night; he would wander out towards my bed where I was sleeping and growl a little, then he would maybe walk back to his closet (he was always famous for commandeering closets or cubbyholes.  I would do my best to make sure he had at least some cave and in some cases these caves were HUGE!  I would go visit Poop in his “apartment” I would call it.) and go to sleep.  He used to be cute, and want to come sleep in my bed.  He would either do it, or for a short time I put my mattress up high on a frame and box-spring and he would come whine and whimper in the middle of the night until I woke up to pull him up into the bed..

Unfortunately that has changed.  I don’t hear the whine and whimper anymore.  While I have been writing this he has come into my room about 3 times.  2 of those times he would hear me call out to him and growl and then, once he got close enough to me, he would maybe snarl, lunge and snap to try and bite.  I’m a tiny scared but not really.  I more feel fucking SAD because, I think he has a combo problem of going blind and getting senile.  It’s like clockwork and it’s very fucking sad.  I can see him come looking for me.  In his mind, he wants to come see his buddy, me.  But then the fucking circuitry in his brain is misfiring.  He gets MEAN.  He trys to bite.  I can dodge him and feint and finally duck in with my hand to get to his face or under his chin, but it is not a fun, or easy task, and it does involve the possibility of getting bit.  I have been bit twice now.  When I get my hand under his chin or grab his collar or put my hand on top of his head or both my hands on the sides of his face, and I’m like, awww Mr Poop…  Then he chills out and becomes himself.

But now it’s just getting bad.  He is having these fits a lot.  But the fucking hard part about it is, I can see him in there still, his old self.  He still pops up.  It’s not fucking fair.  He doesn’t know what the fuck is going on, and sometimes I can see him realize he just had a fit and feel a little bad.  Just now he came into my room, and one minute he was trying to bite me, the next I was calming him down, but then the realization I have been having lately dawned upon me once again – that i’m going to have to put him to sleep – and I fucking cried.

And then he tried to cheer me up, by biting my nose (that’s play biting and it is SUPER easy to tell the difference) and I could see he felt empathy.  So he snaps back to being himself, quite a lot, and it makes it fucking hard!  I have to take him in to the fucking vets, my buddy of like 11 years, and have them inject him with poison that will kill him, and that’s fucking bullshit!  I am pretty much left with no choice.  I have actually pushed it out far, I keep hoping for a miracle.  I keep hoping something magical will happen and I will figure out a way to teach him to chill, but I really do think he is going senile.

I actually stopped dating over the last month or so because the last girl who spent the night here a couple time, got freaked out the last time she was here, because early in the morning Poop was growling, barking and sounding a lot like he wanted to kill someone, and he was in the other room in his kennel.  Try getting your groove on with a dog one room away sounding like he wants to murder someone.

He has cock-blocked me a couple times in the past.  One time I was getting ready to make out with this chick, and Poop was a couple feet away and all you heard was, “Pfffffttttttttt….” and it was Deadly.  He literally destroyed the room with that smell, and the mood was gone…  I think he did me a favor with that chick though so no big deal.  And he was my buddy so Cock-blocks were pretty much forgiven.

But with this last chick, well… She said, “I don’t feel comfortable being here.”  After that day, She didn’t want to hang out any more.  Ok, ya sure…  Who cares?  If she can’t handle my dog….  But at the same time, I wouldn’t expect any chick to be able to handle that.  Romantic moods are pretty much destroyed.  So just when I was getting on a little streak I decided to hang it up for a minute.  I’m not into dating to scare the shit out of chicks.

So the point is, I have to take him in.  I know he’s gonna be excited.  He’s always in a good mood when we go for walks.  He loves them.I took him in the car the other day to Starbucks and sat outside.  Twice he threw a fit right around this girl, but I was having a conversation with her and had already warned her…  Before that she was like, “Ohh noo..  This guy?” Because he was being a sweetheart.  But man, that fit just comes out of no where.

And that’s the point innit?  It’s hard to imagine him being all happy, being at the vets.  Surprisingly he has always LOVED the vets.  I took him in for an evaluation a month ago and the he was so well behaved the vets were like, “I don’t think he’s ready to be put down yet.” A phone call later after the appointment and once of the vets got to hear him in the background during one of his fits changed everything.

So it is a dilemma.  But his fits are gradually getting more dangerous.  I guess, as some people have talked to suggested, he could be in pain.  He could be suffering.  Maybe I need to come to terms with it.  The other way I can look at it, a possibility that occurred to me while writing this is, maybe it’s not so bad that he will be in a good mood when I got to put him to sleep.  Maybe that is 100 times better than if he died a miserable, angry, frenzied death where he was fighting and nashing.  No, maybe I can pet him, give him some chicken, hug him, scratch him under his jaw (his favorite place) and let him feel good as they inject him.  And then I’ll let him go on and see my dad.

I have a date tomorrow.  I made it on accident. lol  It was sort of spontaneous.  I think tomorrow, though, I may take him to the vets, and I’m not sure what kind of condition I will be for the date…  But I have been telling myself “Tomorrow” for over a month now…

He’s my fucking buddy, man.  This is going to be HARD!

 

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Life While Asleep

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Today is another wasted day in my life. I am lying here on my bed writing this after having just eaten tater tots and a sausage and egg biscuit from Dollar Tree. Or was it Family Dollar? I have really no idea because to get there to purchase food that would be super easy to prepare and that would shut up my cravings for bad food I had to go forth to the store in a Zombie Haze. I went to bed last night about 2am. I had to really just get to sleep, because I knew today I would wake up and have some issues.

I have some sort of sleep problem. I’m not sure what it is yet, but am hoping to find out soon enough. You see, I would love to just go get tested to see what’s happening with me, but it costs a lot of money to get tests and treatment. I’m not going to turn this into a sob story. Here’s what is happening in my life right now. I am having, on my days where I do get enough sleep, this wonderful appreciation of life that is growing upon me. I am coming to the conclusion that much of my life is being wasted (unfairly?) on this sleep deprivation issue and that during the times where I have energy; I need to use my life wisely and to the fullest, embracing every moment and discovering who I am; and what I am here for.

…Which is kind of a scary thought right now because it has literally pulled me away from my job that I had as a leasing agent in Chicago. My thoughts are, I am NOT a sales guy. Sales killed my father, literally. It made him a miserable wreck for years and wore him down and then eventually, 3 days after a major deal he worked on for 2 years fell apart, he had a massive hard attack and died.

I had never seen him like that, the day I came home to see him. He needed to talk to me, he said, and when I saw him he was shaking, and crying. He said he didn’t know what to do. All his fucking dreams of retirement, and finally catching up on his debt and being able to finally settle down, crushed by some corporate fuckface (or group there of) who decided that his work wasn’t good enough, or relevant to their plans or whatever happens in the corporate world.

I should have stayed around and kept watch but I did not. It was getting on Valentines day and I had a girlfriend who was beckoning for my attention. I went to her instead, and when he needed me most – I let him down and he died.

And now here I am, living my life half asleep. Days like today I can accomplish nothing. I just got a call from someone who wanted to schedule a showing on one of my rental properties and I played it off, told him I would get back to him, having no intention of doing so. That sucks too. I have my rent piling up. I am 2 months behind at this point. I quit my last job at a rental company here in Chicago because of creative differences. I fully intended to start working at another company that recruited me, but the problem is, things have sort of went down hill since then and for one reason or another I have had my sleep deprivation kicking up again, reminding me that life is short; and startlingly enough Killing off my drive to work in Real Estate.

I feel like there is some other reason I am here. Not to be, as so many people have referred to me over the last few months, “a salesman”. I abhor the title. “Ronnie, the thing “so-and-so” said is that maybe it’s because you’re so much of a salesman that….”

or

“You’re such a good salesman that people are making decisions before they really even know what’s happening.”

or

“You’re not my brother, you’re just a salesman!”

That last one was with a landlord who’s property I had rented out a year ago. I was negotiating with him over another listing he was going to give to me, before the switch from one company to the next, and he said those words to me on the phone. i was so pissed when I heard that, I basically killed the deal at that point and told him nevermind without telling him to go fuck himself, which, before my time as a leasing agent, I probably would have.

It killed me inside to hear someone refer to me as that. It was good to hear people telling me I was good at something but it was NOT good to hear that I was a good salesman. And then yesterday I had, what I am starting to call, an “energy day”. Energy Days are days which are probably normal to you. They are your everyday day. But to me they are fucking GOLD! I am starting to relish them. I am writing this right now excited at the prospect that tomorrow I might wake up and have some energy and be able to go out and do something constructive with my life.

I think this could be one of those mixed blessings. I really hope so, because I am frightened a little that soon I will be out of house and home – but I am simultaneously having dreams of returning to Key West and sleeping on the beach until I discover whatever the hell it is my mind is trying to formulate for me right now. My last couple sleep days have been pounded with Visuals of returning to Key West and I just might hit the road when I get my final $1000 from my last job. Maybe there is a better place to go. I love writing and I love women and I love… Oh you know what? Winter is almost here and I also love skiing. Maybe I need to do the opposite. I could imagine myself working at some ski resort doing a job there too, but – well, I’m not exactly in my 20s anymore and I really need to find my path in life. I really feel like I have so much potential that is being wasted.

Which brings me back to the point. My wish, right now, is that somehow I can get treated for whatever sleep condition ales me. That I can find out what it is that is causing it and get some treatment that will make my “energy days” my normal days.

Some shittier news: (LOL Trust me when I say this is not going to be some depressing, shitty blog where I whine and complain. There are, and will be, so many more good times that I will share i the future.) My dog is old as fuck and half-blind and senile. He is prone to fits of growling, barking like he wants to kill and snapping. He has bit me a couple times, once really hard. I love him, and yea, yea, yea I know some people reading this will be like, “Well you should put him down if he’s old and biting.” Trust me, the thought has crossed my mind. But the other thoughts that cross my mind are how he has been my buddy, been there with me since he’s been alive. I’ve been with him longer than any girl I’ve dated. Actually he’s been around through several girls I’ve dated, and I still see part of his nice side coming out. He’s there. He loves me. He wants to be petted and hugged and I can snap him out of his frenzies if I can get to him before he tears my hand off.

I mean, maybe I can tolerate him more because I know what it is to live life with some sort of thing that makes life suck from time to time. At most times in my life there have been something wrong with me that have tore me up either physically or emotionally and through all of them I have persevered. So my buddy, despite his issues, deserves a little leeway. Hopefully he doesn’t kill me or I kill him because of it, but I have a feeling that in life, things do turn out happy in the end. I still, despite all the bullshit I have had beat the shit out of me in my life, feel that there is still a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow; that there is a happy ending at the end of the fairy tale. I’ll find mine.