I have a few different posts I want to write, but I can’t settle on any of them.
Should I write about Gob and his mysterious origins, hacking cough and funny personality?
Should I write about the state of the Church in America?
Should I write about how certain people turn up time and again in your life like Herpes?
I really can’t make up my mind. And I’m tired.
One of the good things about taking care of Gob and his many little needs is that I am dead certain I would have been a good human mother and/or a passable nurse. I like to take care of people and animals. So it’s reassuring in its own way. God didn’t pass me by with children because I was a slacker in the momability department at least.
I am tired though. I skipped meds this week so that Gob’s first week here would be less odd for him. I mean, it’s got to be odd enough already when some big fat white guy keeps trying to hump your face. Watching your caretaker sleep all day would just be pushing it. Nevertheless, I’m still tired. He’s got a hacking cough that is either allergies or a cold or kennel cough. What it is doesn’t matter at this point according to the Vet because they’re all treated the same way. So I’ve been sitting in steamy bathrooms with him and forcing warm honey and hydrogen peroxide down his throat in between benedryl dosings. It’s kind of funny in a way because Gob’s first days are very similar to Casey’s last days. They are measured in dosing times and trips to the yard.
But who wants to read about someone else’s dog’s snot? Nobody, I reckon. So why did I spend all this effort on this post? I guess it’s because I’m tired enough from being up all night that I can’t write those other posts with anything even vaguely close to tact. And since I am already being reamed out in one set of comments I don’t feel like opening myself up to that. So instead of poking those pythons I’ll just ramble on about my dog’s cough as though that makes it interesting.
But that’s the thing about this dog that is similar to getting guff in the comments section of your blog. Getting a rescue dog is, essentially, being willing to take on someone else’s junk. Now don’t get me wrong. I love Gob and I know we made the right decision and this is the right dog for us. But I also know that he’s afraid of closed doors and freaks out whenever I emerge from the bathroom. He came to us half starved, more a hair-covered skeleton than a dog. It’s like having a blog with comments. You take the good with the bad and hope you don’t catch something deadly.