Tuesday, July 14, 2015

I'm back, bitches.

You heard me. I am motherfuckin back. Back with a side of married, pregnant and a dog named Jones. Who rules. And kind of rules my life. Since I am a full time housewife and dog mom, my life consists of really important things like taking Jones on epic journeys. This summer we discovered Wissahickon Creek in Chestnut Hill, which is basically a beautiful 20-something mile nature path along a big stream about 20 minutes away from Center City, Philadelphia. Jones gets to be a real dog out there. I can take him off the leash and he can jump into the creek, splash around and retrieve things like he was meant to do. It's pretty cool to see your dog swim, and maybe even feel a little proud, regardless of the fact that you had absolutely nothing to do with teaching him the mechanics of swimming. Whatever, I taught him everything he knows. Jones and I actually just got back from another adventure: DOWN THE SHORE. Unfortunately cut short by a multitude of factors. Forget the fact that I'm pregnant (my husband had to go back to work) and therefore alone. Forget that the vintage air conditioning units went haywire and they all blew up and the electricity went out and I couldn't find the fusebox or someone to contact. Forget the mildewy, moldy smell that makes almost every rental down the shore so uniquely shitty and charming at the same time. Forget the neighbors who told me a pipe burst and water is exploding everywhere. Our vacation was really cut short because I discovered something awful on Jones. At first I thought he found a wonderful dead sea creature to roll around in. I got this horrible smell on my hand, which got there from petting my baby YONES. (My husband and I call him Yones sometimes- think Yohannes or Yanni) So… I gave him a bath and when he dried off this ring of wetness and smelliness was still around the back of his neck. I put a paper towel on it, and there was a gooey, pink ooze coming out of him. Fast forward to an emergency trip to the Cape May animal hospital and we discovered Jones' first canine hot spot. It had spread to a lesion about the size of my fist on the back of his neck OVERNIGHT. Scary, right? Anyway, the doc told us Golden Retreivers are predisposed to these dermalogical problems. They are called summer sores or moist eczema and they seem really painful. Jones really cringes when I try to clean it up or apply his medicine. They are caused by excess bacteria triggered by allergens such as pollen, mold, dust, insect bites or fleas, moisture and heat or even diet! So here I am thinking I am the best mom ever letting him frolic through the ocean, jump in the pool and explore the tributaries of Greater Philadelphia while I am actually causing my poor baby this horrible skin sore! What an idiot! I guess when you put so much work into training and raising your dog, and loving the living shit out of them, when they are suffering, you suffer too. I put my heart and soul into this dog. At the risk of sounding dramatic… I'm sorry but that was really stressful. Almost traumatic. I'm terrified, actually, of becoming a mom mom. I know I am going to be a good mom, but I doubt myself sometimes, especially when shit like this goes down. Not scared of when baby gets sick; like, duh, I know babies get sick. I'll handle it. I am just projecting about how emotional I will be when I inevitably relive growing up with my kids. The heartaches, rejection, and cruelty… It will be impossible to keep a straight face. I almost cried in the vet's office for Pete's sake. Blame it on the ah-ah-ah-ah-aaaaa-aaa alcoho-- i mean the hormones? HORMOOOONES. More to come on that shit later. K thanks, bye!