xtitsx: (Default)
( 22 Aug 2017 09:54 am)
my pet Monster is a fucking mess.
for over thirteen months now she she has shivered, panicked, freaked the fuck out and destroyed everything she could get her claws and teeth on every time the PSE and i left her home alone in the apartment, or if she thought there might be a chance she would be left home alone in the apartment.
a few weeks after the Monster came to live with us and it became clear that this is just the way she is, the PSE and i took her to the Vet to see what could be done.
they prescribed a drug called Trazodone that didn't seem to have any effect.
i called the Vet a few weeks later to report the failure and they prescribed some kind of a gel we were supposed to squirt into the Monster's mouth, but that didn't work, either.
i feel like we tried a third drug, maybe even a fourth, but i can't recall the names and they were all unsuccessful.
we also tried a Thunder Shirt, some kind of a pheromone spray and several other over-the-counter products from the Dog Anxiety aisle at Pet Smart, but none of them seemed to have any effect, either.
every time the Monster was left home alone she would dig dig dig dig dig and tear tear tear tear tear at the carpet in front of the front door and the sliding glass patio door and our bedroom door.
occasionally, she would piss on our couch.
after a while, the PSE and i decided that it would be easier to just never leave the house together then to keep having to come home to a fucking wreck.
and that's how we've been living for the better part of the past year.

for the better part of the past year the PSE has been unemployed and has mostly been able to be home with the Monster while i go off to Law School.
on the few occasions where the PSE was off in a Drug Study trying to make us money, i would bring the Monster to a Doggie Daycare and pay for them to watch her for half a day.
the PSE was supposed to use the nine months she spent largely-unemployed working with the Monster, trying to train her to just calm the fuck down when we leave and trust that we'll be home soon enough, but that didn't really work.
it's not the PSE's fault, really, the Monster is nuts. you can't train nuts.
so, instead, the PSE and i take the Monster with us as much as possible whenever we need to leave the house.
the Monster doesn't enjoy it, it's hot as shit out and she overheats easily, and the PSE and i don't enjoy it, it's so much more of a pain in the ass to do our grocery shopping or gather supplies when you're tethered to a poky puppy, but this is what we have to do for our little bundle of problems.
in the rare circumstances where the PSE and i both have to be out of the house and the Monster can't come with one of us, we will lock her in her crate.
the Monster is pretty good about getting in her crate, she hasn't tried to fight it, but as soon as she sees that we are getting dressed to go out she will snap into an agitated, overstimulated state and she will stay like that until we return.
her eyes will get big, she will start panting frantically, she will dig at the blankets underneath her feet and she will tear at the Mexican serape that covers her crate.
one of the PSE's old co-workers gave that serape to her years and years ago and now the Monster has shredded it to tatters.
a few weeks ago, when i was picking up her latest round of Serape shreds in the bottom of her crate, i found a tooth in the mix.
the Monster had torn out one of her own teeth in her state of heightened agitation.

a month or so ago the PSE decided that she wants to go back to Community College.
she starts at the end of August, which is when i will be going back to Law School, too.
the PSE intentionally scheduled her classes this upcoming semester on Tuesdays and Thursdays, while i have class Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays, but still, with both of us having things on our plates there will come plenty of times where we might need to leave the house at the same time.
neither the PSE nor i can bring the Monster to class with us [i tried once and got in a lot of trouble with the Administration] so that means the Monster will be spending way more time alone this upcoming year then she did the one previous.

as if the Monster's inability to be left home alone wasn't bad enough, last month the Monster developed another thing to be crazy about.
now she will get all freaked out even when we're at home with her, during storms, or even if there is excessive noise out in the parking lot.
it all started on the Fourth of July. some asshole was setting off fireworks in the parking lot and all the explosions got the Monster upset.
i was in the bathtub and she came and jumped into the tub with me, seeking comfort.
it was cute, but ever since then the Monster has been a real pussy about any excessive noise.
she never used to be like this, as long as the PSE or i were home with her she never got bothered by anything, but since the 4th of July i guess she realized that she can get upset by something else and now every goddamned noise sets her off.
last Sunday afternoon one of the neighbors in the house across the parking lot was having some minor construction done and the Monster spent the afternoon in an overstimulated, frenzied, panicked state.
the PSE tried to snap her out of it by yelling at her and making her go lay in her bed but the PSE just ended up getting herself all upset and it didn't settle the Monster at all.
i was in the bathtub that time too, and the Monster came and jumped in there with me once again.
doing that once is cute but she can't go ahead and make a regular habit out of it.
later that night there was a Summer storm with lightening and thunder.
the PSE and i were in bed early because we had to wake up at 5:30am to go to the Dallas Drug Study for an outpatient visit but the Monster wouldn't let us sleep.
she would whimper and whine and whine and whimper because there was lightening out and she was So Nervous.
it took the Monster over an hour and a half to finally settle down and shut the fuck up and the PSE and i spent the entire time in the middle of the night regretting the day we decided to take the little shit into our lives.

since bringing the Monster back to the animal shelter where we got her isn't an option on account of having principles, the PSE and i decided to give Veterinary medicine another shake.
i called up the Vet and made an appointment for the following Tuesday morning.
the PSE was busy doing some other shit, so, when Tuesday morning came around i got up and took the Monster for a three-block walk to the Vet's office.
our appointment was for 11:30am, but they kept us waiting in the lobby until damn-near noon.
the Monster and i split a bag of Animal Crackers that was offered as we waited.
eventually a Veterinary Technician came around and brought us back to an exam room.
we stopped at a scale to weigh the Monster first and found that she was down to 7.9 pounds.
when the Monster first came into our lives she was in the mid-8s and she looked too skinny.
the most the Monster ever clocked in at as 9.8 pounds.
i guess all the worrying the Monster is doing is just sloughing off the calories.
the nuerochemical imbalance diet.

the first thing the Veterinary Technician did was present me with a menu of things she wanted me to pay for; Parvo and Distemper and Bordatella Vaccines, a fecal test.
i declined because these people don't need to play in the Monster's shit, but i did okay a three-year rabies shot and a heartworm test because they won't sell us Monster's Trifexis flea pills without it.
after trying to up-sell me on all kinds of shit i finally got around to telling the Veterinary Technician about the Monster's troubles.
then, after a while longer a Veterinarian came in and i told her the same thing.
the Veterinarian was a huge see you next Tuesday and i did not like her almost immediately.
after i told the Vet what was wrong with the Monster she recommended that we take her to a daycare facility when we need to leave the house or that we hire a behavior modification expert.
motherfucker, do we look like suckers with tens of thousands of dollars to burn?
dogs aren't supposed to need to go to therapy, they're just supposed to act like dogs.
there is obviously something wrong with this one, something neurological, and we want you to give us some kind of anti-anxiety medication to fix her.
the middle-schools are full of soft little idiots who can't handle the world, they hand anti-anxiety medications out like candy to kids these days, but when i want to try to get help for my nervous little friend before the PSE strangles her in a fit of exasperated rage, i find the one doctor who wants to try to take a holistic approach.
eventually i convinced the judgmental shit of a Veterinarian to write me a prescription for Xanex, though she couldn't guarantee it would have any more of an effect then the Trazodone or the gel or the pheromones or the ThunderShirt.
this is all a game of trial and error.
the trip to the Vet cost $122.47, plus $8.48 for a month's worth of generic Xanex.

it's been about a week now that we've been giving the Monster Xanex once a day.
it makes her groggy when she's on it, but when she wants to freak out about thunder storms or anything else, she will fight through it.

//[ab irato ad astra]
xtitsx: (Default)
( 21 Aug 2017 06:59 pm)
the PSE's friend the Gibbler has started up a LiveJournal of her own recently.
it's not a real LiveJournal, or a DreamWidth like i used now on account of the goddamned Russians taking over LiveJournal, but it's some other blogging form.
Blogger or WordPress or TypePad or some shit.
whenever the Gibbler makes a new post the PSE gets an alert in her e-mail and she'll read it and we'll have a good laugh at the Gibbler's expense.
almost every post is about how the Gibbler's baby-daddy is shockingly abusive.
how he'll yell at her and berate her and degrade her if a guy, any guy, leaves her a message on the Face Book and how one time he kicked her out of the house they rent and threatened to kill their dog because she got a tattoo on her chest and a tattooist saw her boobs.
also he cheats on her all the time.
the PSE and i laugh at the Gibbler's misfortune because the Gibbler made her own bed, but i guess what we really should do is call social services.
get the Gibbler and her kid and their dog into some kind of battered woman's shelter.
anyways, i laugh at the Gibbler and where her life choices have gotten her, but the sad thing is that me and my own life choices aren't too far removed from the Gibbler's.
i'm smarter and i have more financial resources then the Gibbler does and i don't have a child dragging me down, but when it comes down to it, i'm in a destructive, abusive relationship that breaks my heart all the same.

the other day the PSE and i drove to Dallas for a Drug Study outpatient visit.
i ended up getting into it with one of the workers there about something and, when i met the PSE back in the car in the parking lot, i told her about it, because i tell the PSE about everything.
the PSE started to work her way up to a fight. i could see it coming.
she attacked the premise of my argument with the worker, i defended it, but then it became clear that the PSE wasn't looking to debate with me she was looking to fight and she quickly devolved into personal attacks.
i asked her to stop making personal attacks, but she insisted.
she told me that there was something wrong with me and that i am an embarrassment to her.
i spent the rest of the long car ride back from Dallas to our apartment in Fort Worth quietly regretting the majority of the life choices i've made since the PSE and i first met.

the PSE not liking me is not a new thing.
the PSE has been insulting and attacking me personally since the first few months of our relationship.
and that's fine, i guess, in the beginning. i understand that not everybody has to like me.
but for the PSE to stay with me for nearly-thirteen years it goes without saying that she ought to either come around or move along.
if i am going to be with somebody i expect them to love me and respect me.
i don't think that's unreasonable.
i deserve to be loved and respected. i deserve to be appreciated and valued and adored. i deserve kindness and acceptance and approval and unconditional love.
i have earned it.
i have spent the past nearly-thirteen years with the PSE as a reliable, dependable, respectful, loving, kind and sweet boyfriend.
i have put in more then enough work to earn the PSE's love and respect
but what i get in return more often then not is that she just does not like me all that much.
and if that's the case, then please just get the fuck out of my life forever.

the PSE is the only thing i have in this world.
i have no friends to speak of and my Parents aren't good for much.
the Monster is alright, but she's got problems of her own.
i'm a pretty independent, self-contented person by nature [or by necessity from a lifetime of being a fat kid in sweatpants] but i still need just one person to fucking like me.
is that asking so much?
it's human nature to want to be liked, to have our needs validated by another human being, but the circumstances of my life right now are that the PSE is all i've got, and she is either unwilling or unable to do the job.
i can't help but feel so rejected and so alone.

i have hitched my wagon to a burning, scalding star.
the PSE has a temperament that is perfectly designed for putting people down, pushing people away and making people feel worthless.
the PSE is nasty and mean, withholding and cruel.
the PSE is critical, judgmental, arrogant, smug and snide.
the PSE has no sense of empathy, no compassion and no tolerance for anything different from the way she has decided things ought to be.
the PSE thinks she is better then everybody she meets and she thinks that self-diagnosed superiority gives her license to let them know what their problem is.
the PSE is the most superior, sanctimonious person i have ever met and trying to spend my life with her has resulted in a nothing but insult and injury and falling short of her unreasonable expectations.
this isn't just a me-problem. the PSE's family has been put off by her since she was in middle-school and the PSE's only friend The Gibbler would agree.
at some point, when everybody you have ever known thinks you look down on them, you've either got to change your fucking attitude or stop talking to people.

my biggest fear is that one day i will be on my deathbed a hundred and fifty years from now and i'll be looking back at my life and wallowing with regret that i spent so much time with the PSE.
it's my only fear, really. i don't give a shit about heights or spiders.
i do fear a wasted life, and every day i spend with the PSE, every mean, nasty fight we have, it gets harder and harder to say that my life is not being wasted.
i don't want to be on my deathbed and look back at how i spent my limited, precious time on Earth and see little more then insults and cruelty from the PSE.
i can't say i wish i'd never met the PSE, i can't even say that i wish i had the fortitude to leave her after our first major fight, but, after a while, even taking all the good with the bad, there emerges a critical mass of nastiness and meanness and insult and injury that dominates the story.
the PSE and i spent ten months traveling around the world, we had a Great Adventure, and when i look back at it now, what stands out most, the defining moment, is being in a literal tropical paradise, Koh Rong, Cambodia, staying on a mostly-isolated beach with some of the bluest, clearest, prettiest water i've ever seen and for our entire time, three long days, fighting with the PSE because i splashed her in the water too much.
the PSE's shit attitude ruined my Great Adventure.
i don't want her to ruin my whole life.

several hours after the PSE berated me with personal attacks she issued a halfhearted apology.
her apologies aren't worthless to me, but they are pretty close.
the PSE has apologized for attacking me and hurting my feelings no less then a thousand times before.
that's not an exaggeration, that a reasonable approximation.
the PSE has been attacking me and hurting my feelings and then apologizing and then attacking me again and hurting my feelings again and then apologizing again and then attacking me again for nearly thirteen years.
and while i don't doubt that the PSE sincerely feels bad after some of the times she's attacked me [other times she stands firmly behind] feeling bad isn't even half of what an apology is supposed to be.
an apology consists of two parts, contrition and a solemn oath to change.
the PSE has issues solemn oaths to change her behavior before, to treat me with the love and respect she agrees i deserve, but then, the next time the PSE sees an opportunity to berate, belittle, insult and degrade me she will take it, seemingly without the ability to restrain herself.
so when the PSE says that she is sorry for attacking me an sorry for making me feel bad that's great, but i know it won't change a goddamned thing in the future.
what the PSE is really saying when she says she is sorry is “can we just pretend that nothing is wrong, because i find it much more convenient to deal with you when you aren't hurt...”

this isn't the end of my relationship with the PSE. it doesn't rise to the level of a hanging offense.
we will move on from this eventually and move on into another big, horrible fight, and another and another and another.
and that is what life will be like for me until eventually, a hundred and fifty years from now i will be on my deathbed and my worst fear will have come true.
so, the next time the Gibbler makes a post on her not-LiveJournal about how sad her life is, instead of laughing at her like i do, i ought to tell her 'i get it buddy. my heart hurts too.'
i won't do that, but it would be nice if i did.

//[ab irato ad astra]
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August 2017

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