When the Big Munky was in Iraq, I felt the house needed a little extra protection. Sure, we have guns, but we also have 3 small kiddos, so I decided the best thing would be a dog. I found "Tabby" on CraigsList. She was a red cocker spaniel, about 4 years old, in the same county. And, the owners were giving her away.
My parents bred spaniels when I was a kid. I love them things. They're small without being annoying, and just big enough to wrestle and play with. After our last female passed, my folks stopped the breeding thing and kept the male, Rusty. Rusty was bad ass. Once, 3 dogs from up the street (2 were Rotweilers) came into our yard and jumped his ass. Rusty, already 11 years old, held his own. Mom found him on the porch the next morning, pissed but alive, and saw the 3 bullies run off. After a shaved ass and tubes in his back, Rusty was good for another couple of years.
Those asshole Rotties never came back.
So, I have a soft spot for this breed. And Tabby was red, like Rusty. So I loaded up the kids and my friend Annette and followed the directions to a trailer park a few miles away. "Tabby" was in the yard, lookin a hot mess, her ass surrounded by gnats. Her owner tried to call her, but she wouldn't go near him. I walked to her, picked her stinky butt up, and put her in the back of my car.
This is what she looked like, after we'd gotten her home and bathed.
This is what she looked like a little over a week later, after a visit to the groomer's, where all they could do was shave her bald.
And she didn't answer to "Tabby." What a stupid name for a dog anyway. So the kids renamed her after Tater's friend, Arlee. And she caught onto it fairly quickly.
Arlee was a timid dog, did not like loud noises or roughhousing. When things got too chaotic, she would hide behind the TV or chair in the corner. She didn't beg for affection, but gladly accepted it. She didn't bark at all unless there was someone/something outside the front door. She wasn't housetrained, like the guy had told me, but eventually we figured out her cues and had a semi-structured schedule for her to go outside. She loved soft things on the floor, and would lie on anything left out---her bed, a pillow, that pile of dirty laundry in the hallway.
She was excellent company at night, when I couldn't sleep, whether she was awake or not. She snored like a man, and would sometimes make these weird squeaky sounds that always tickled and confused me.
For the first couple of months, she was my shadow. She followed me whenever I moved, and would rest at my feet whenever I was still. She jumped and sulked if I made any sudden movements.
She slept under my bed most every night, and I would hear her through the mattress. It became a comforting annoyance.
As time passed, Big Munky came home. Things got a little crazy again as we tried to transition back into full family mode. Arlee wasn't getting as much attention as before, and everyone was stressed and in pissy moods from the new changes. I felt bad for her as much as I felt annoyed with her. She started pissing in the kitchen floor and leaving piles of poo in the girls' room. I started looking for another home for her, one where the family was calmer, and patient, and more attentive. Several people responded to the ad I put out, and I found myself canceling out each one of them. If I couldn't find fault with them, I'd tell them every little fault of Arlee's. Needless to say, I never found that "perfect" place. And, at the time, I was relieved.
Thursday I was running late for work. Arlee had gone out, and I couldn't find her to get her back in before I left. Rather than be late (like I was a week ago because of the same thing) I loaded the kids and left. The Princess said something about Arlee being in the yard, but I dismissed that, knowing if she was that close she would've come running when I called.
Later that afternoon, the Big Munky called and asked for directions to the vet. He'd found Arlee. In the yard. On the other side of the driveway.
Crap, here I go again. It was less than 2 years we had this baby, why is this tearing me up so bad?
Arlee didn't make it to the vet. I didn't ask details. All I know is that she was lying right there beside my car and I didn't even see her. I didn't even check. She was lying there all damn day, alone, just waiting for someone. She was still breathing when Munky put her in his truck. All fucking day. . . I suck.
So, here I sit, alone at night again (since Munky's on night shift now), swearing I hear the jingle of her collar. I keep having to stop myself from going to the door to let her in. When I get home, and put my key in the lock, I pause, like always, knowing when I open the door this big ole ball of fluffy red is gonna come bustin through it. I still want to ask the Princess, "Did you feed Arlee yet?"
Ah, the kids. They don't know. They talk among themselves, but only Tater has said anything to me about Arlee--said she misses her, that the Princess said Arlee ran away. I said that Arlee loves us and would never ran away from her home, but that she'd been very, very hurt. I couldn't say "dead."
I'm so sorry, Arlee. I'm sorry I didn't look out for you better, I'm sorry I didn't look for you that morning. I'm sorry I called you a dumbass for peeing in the kitchen. I'm sorry I yelled at you whenever you chewed on your butt. I'm sorry I didn't give you all the love and attention you deserved, and for not showing how grateful I am for you being in our home, in our family, for making me feel safe at night. I'm sorry all I can do now is cry and whine on a stupid blog like that's going to fix anything.
I'm sorry.
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| This is the child who was TERRIFIED of dogs. |
