of the dog that was such a bitch

AP and N celebrated Ben’s arrival like that of a newborn baby. It was like the beginning of a wonderful time, fresh hope, countless possibilities, and tremendous confusion. How often does he need to be fed? Is it time to start potty training him? How do we work our shifts in office so he’s never left unsupervised? They lay awake at night wondering what he was doing.

I wasn’t so excited. I missed the way things were before Ben came. I didn’t hate him, but we wished I could. My feelings were all mixed up; so mixed up that I have neither the intellectual apparatus nor the vocabulary to describe it.

Anyway.

Ben was the most moody dog I’ve ever seen. He had just about enough patience to suck up to us when he wanted to be fed, but as soon as that was done, he’d crawl under AP’s bed and stay there until he got hungry again, much like a bored husband would roll over and fall asleep after he is done having his way with the poor wife. Believe me, the dog was a total bitch.

Seriously.

When he was teething, we would come home to stuff that had been chewed up in ways you couldn’t imagine. Think half-eaten (raw) potatoes, bits and pieces of paper tissue strewn across the house, chewed up mattresses. And if that seems normal, imagine crotchless panties, toeless socks, heel-less slippers. I can’t speak for anyone else, but all this made me want to rip his precious little teeth right out.

Once, Ben slyly took little sips from my rum and coke, got drunk, and got the glass stuck on his face with the alcohol still in it. The fucker couldn’t breathe, but he thought it would be a great time to go hide under the bed. I didn’t realize what had happened until I realized my glass wasn’t where I had kept it. I thought I was going nuts until AP found the trail Ben had left behind. The bitch had passed out under AP’s bed with a glass stuck to his face.

I’m pretty sure it was the first time I ever used the words ‘dog’ and ‘deathwish’ in the same sentence. People laughed for the longest time. Until Ben proved me right.

Do you have a pet as crazy as Ben? Do you think dogs can be suicidal? Did you miss me while I was away? 🙂

of obsessions

I woke up this morning feeling like crap. The house seemed to crowd around me. I had melted into oblivion. The disorder was all that existed. There were no sounds, no fiance, no thoughts of love or happiness. Just a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach and the vulgarity of the laundry basket and the clothes spilling out of it; the unutterable chaos that was my night stand.

It suddenly began to torment me that I’ve been living in the same mess for over a year. The fiance’s a slob, and has turned me into one. I didn’t know what was more horrifying to me, the fact that our home is basically a dump or that I have learned to live with it. And then the devil struck. It was as though I woke up on a different planet, and I could see only the laundry basket and the side stand. I lost all control. I had to clean. Right away.

I spent two hours cleaning the house today, muttering mean things to the fiance under my breath, treating him like an incompetent employee I couldn’t fire. He was trying to help, but is so awful at helping we ended up breaking a whole set of wine glasses. Yes, the same ones that have been sitting on the dining table for a week now. At least I don’t have to bother putting them back on the shelf anymore!

After we were done, I was still in a sulky mood, so he made me tea and sat me down. It was working great, until he said: Hey, I get that you like to live in a clean house and I’m no help at all, but that’s not reason enough for you to get depressed. I don’t know how to deal with this, you know, when life’s a breeze for months on end, and then suddenly wake up and start doing this. You’re freaking me out!

I was livid. I wanted to say: Not reason enough? Really? Do you know what goes on in my mind in those peaceful months? What do you know of obsessions anyway?  There’s never a moment when I’m not thinking about cleaning. Some days I feel so low I almost feel paralyzed. I don’t want to even wake up because I’m afraid of what I’ll get to see. Part of me wants to set the house on fire so I know that I can start setting it up from scratch. But sorry for the inconvenience dude. I know you’re late for work today because of me.

Then I remembered that he does know how it feels to be depressed. He is clinically depressed. He is battling two dissociative disorders.

I’m sorry. I don’t want to freak you out baby. I just feel so paralyzed some days.

I know sweetheart. You know what, we’re going to spend this entire weekend cleaning.

I think I may be more obsessed with him than with cleaning, after all.

with anawnimister