Pets are People Too...

Pets are people too.  If you have ever had one, you know this.  For the love, we gave a Guinea Pig a burial fit for a King.  The thing is I have only had two pets my whole life.  This is a true fact.  I was never allowed to have pets.  I have no idea why, you would have to ask Jim and Rita.  My friend Michelle sent me home with a white kitten once that I wanted so bad.  That white kitten went back to Michelle’s the next day.  My brother?  He would go to the Church sale and come home with a puppy.  The puppy would get to stay. 

Anyway, my first pet was an initially unwise decision made between me and my GF at the time.  It was unwise because we drove 14 hours round trip to get her (dumb) and because I would become her primary caregiver.  Later on when said GF cheated, she became the child in the relationship and she was immediately never allowed to see her again.  I am positive this is why God has not given me real children.

I drove clear to the other side of Missouri to get the Maltese.  Why a Maltese, because they are so damn cute and they don’t shed and it was going to be at Jim and Rita’s for a while until I moved and we had a Peek-a-Poo, I should say, Dee Dee did when we were growing up, so I knew they could handle little dogs.  We named her Bailey Bella Besitos, which meant Bailey Beautiful Little Kisses.  But she soon became moms little pal, so she became Bailey Jane, moms middle name, especially when she was in trouble. 

Bailey could fetch, roll over, shake, lie down and dance.  And she became moms little pal because it was during the Ice Cream Cone fiasco, so, hey, lay with Gram and eat Ice Cream Cones all night.  Plus, it was during the time my mom was quite sick and dogs sense these things.

Bailey was also sick and I would only get to have her for about a third of a Maltese’s lifespan.  She had a collapsed trachea, a genetic deformity, which was determined after several emergency room visits.  Yes real E.R. visits.  The first one she was put in an oxygen tank until she got ok.  I was devastated.  I had a special needs dog.  She couldn’t go for car rides to the vet, to get groomed.  If we had company she would get so excited, it would collapse and she would start gasping for breath.  She had very high anxiety, but looking back, there was a tremendous amount in the house, so she had no choice. 

After the GF moved away, I had kind of gotten her straightened out to the point that the vet and the groomer came to the house, so I didn’t have to drive her anywhere.

She did okay for a while…we tried Puppy Prozac, we tried Puppy Xanax which made her a zombie and would just wet herself…Enter new GF and new people…and she struggled, but did ok.

Two years ago this September, when my life as I knew it would take a downward spiral, so did hers.  And probably in part due to my own issues.   The GF left, my Mom left and Dad had a new friend.  From September on she labored so desperately to breathe and was retaining a lot of fluid.  I was dying inside, she was literally dying and I think once my mom left that was as far as she wanted to go.  I had to put Bailey to sleep the Monday after Christmas.  I don’t think I have ever cried harder over anything or anyone.  My parents weren’t speaking, and mom was gone from the house, but I wanted my mom there, so I had to practically beg my father to let her be there.  Jennifer Ulm, my vet, God Bless her, knowing the situation came to my house to do it.  I have never felt like I had given up on something so bad.  I didn’t want her to suffer, but I didn’t know how the hell I was going to survive without her either.  It didn’t matter where I went or how long I was gone, when I would come home she acted like it was the first time she had seen me in weeks…lots of kisses and she always stuck her butt in the air and wiggled her tail at me.  She was my first pet ever.  It was the hardest thing I have ever done.  Especially during and incredibly challenging time in my life to begin with.  I had Bailey cremated.  The best decision I ever made.  She can go with me wherever I go.  I miss her every day, but especially this time of year. 

I thought long and hard about getting another one and I probably shouldn’t have because I enjoy my freedom but the nights were awful.  The days ok, because I was not used to being with her all day anyway.   Well, I took the leap and found another Maltese and this time I wanted a boy.  Maybe he would be less sensitive and not so high strung.

My friend Brandi rode over with me to “meet” him for the first time and it was her who helped me decide his name.  I wanted him to be Cooper, but somehow we arrived at Brodie.  Brodie Maxamillion.  This is what he looked like when I first met him.

Dee Dee and Bella went with me to pick him up several weeks later.  I can’t believe how little they are at 12 weeks. 

The first night I had him I tried the crate thing, even so far as to put the crate on my bed with my hand inside so he could feel me.  Mind you, these creatures have been in a crate/cage their entire lives thus far.  He cried.  All night.  It was gut wrenching and I have no patience, so I took him out of the crate and he crawled up by my head, dug, until he could get under the covers, went all the way down to the end of my bed and fell asleep.  I woke him every 4 hours to go outside and pee…but from that moment on, he sleeps under the covers at my feet.  Only now he taps me on the head when he is ready to go down under.

The first time I went to work, I put him in said crate.  Having been told by the breeder that the smaller the crate the better because they won’t go the bathroom if they have no room.  Two hours later when I check on him he is barking like mad and has completely crapped all over himself and the crate.  There would be no more crate after that.  He was put inside a 4x4 indoor pen with his bed, his food and puppy pads, which he instantly used right away.  He did really well in this when I had to be gone, until the day he scaled the pen and I knew it would no longer contain him.

From day one he refused a collar, a walking leash or a tie out lead.  He followed me everywhere I went.  He still does, but in his older age he has decided to venture away from me more often now, and frankly, gets in a lot more trouble. 

He truly probably saved my life.  In true form however, the first time he got in trouble I yelled Brodie James (my father’s middle name) and he has been that ever since.  Although they look alike, he is very different from Bailey.  However, the older he gets the more territorial he is with “our living space.”  If it is him and Dad at home alone he will sit on the top of Dad’s recliner and wait for me.  If it is him and I at home, and Dad comes home, he barks his ever loving head off until Dad goes to his living quarters. 

He is extremely spoiled, knows no tricks and I have done a horrible job at raising him…but the minute he hears my voice, all my troubles in the world go out the door because I am the most important thing in his life.  Little does he know, he is in mine as well. 

I am pretty sure that Brodie could be autistic.  And that is ok.  Bailey was a special needs child, I can handle this.  But when he was between 6 and 12 months old he would line all of his toys up in a row.  I would put them back.  The next morning they would look like a train again.  We did this for several months.  And when he eats, he eats from one side of his food dish and then the other.  It’s very strange.  The toys he doesn’t lay out so much anymore, but the food, still eats one side, then the other.

He absolutely loves going to my mom’s house.  And loves going for rides, something his sister couldn’t do. 

I can’t imagine my life without him.  He truly is my little companion and he truly has me wrapped around his little paw.  What matters most though, is at the end of the day, any day, whenever he sees me, it is like I made his whole day.  There are times I wish he could talk back because I would love to hear what his take is on life.  I guess as long as he has food and water, life is good. 

I will never forget what the lady at the funeral home said when I went to have Bailey cremated.  I was a slobbering, blubbering mess and she said, “Honest to God, people have a harder time saying goodbye to their pets than they do some family members.  You get to choose your pet…you can’t choose your family.”

RIP Bailey Jane.  Brodie James is taking good care of me.