I’ll give you the TL;DR before I go off on a tear.
I’ll be picking up my new dog, Bobthe Dog, from the pound on Thursday afternoon after work. He is a Shepherd/Mastiff mix, but he’s not really that big. He’s about a year old - they’re not entirely sure, so he’ll probably fill out a little, but I don’t think he’s going to grow much bigger than he already is. I could be wrong. He’s really sweet, very polite when I met him and again when I played with him this afternoon. He seems very inquisitive and smart so I’m hoping I got winner.
So, here’s the deal. I’ve been having a tough decade. No real relationships to speak of, rotating jobs, depression, anger all culminating in the last few years of panic attacks which even included a fun episode where I passed out while I was driving (no one got hurt and nothing got damaged). This is the year I finally decided to do something about it, so for the last three months I’ve been seeing a therapist and for the last two months I’ve been taking Lexipro for anxiety. Things have been looking slightly up for me in terms of mind-set. I’ve definitely calmed down, and through coping techniques and the drugs, I’ve figured out how to not let my emotions get the better of me.
One of my major problems has been lack of traction. I talk a good game but when push comes to shove I never get anything done. So this all came up within the last few weeks. Oh, I’ve been pissing and moaning about wanting to get a dog ever since I moved into my house, with my huge back yard, but I’ve let myself be talked out of it - either by myself and my anxieties, or allowing someone else to fill me full of doubts about it. So this week I decided to grab the dog by the Neuticals[sup]TM[/sup]. I’ve been surfing rescue sites and Humane Center sites and there were a few dogs who really looked like what I was looking for - a smaller, medium energy dog who has a little social skills already. The rescue sites seemed out of the question. Listen, I understand you want your dogs to go to a good home, but how much I’m willing to spend on a medical emergency or what I plan to do with him if I go on vacation is really none of their goddamned business.
My last ditch effort was to go look at this older dog at the Greater Portland Animal Refuge League (the pound), but she was a little too old and too frail and too willing to kill cats. And I just tripped across Bob. Most of the dogs there were pretty well mannered in their kennels but he just seemed so chill but inquisitive that he just grabbed me. So … Bob is going to be my Therapy Dog. I already have Mort my Therapy Cat, and hope I can get them to get along (Mort’s a chill guy too - shouldn’t be a problem).
His name at the pound was Humvee, but that’s a ridiculous name.
Bob. Bob the Dog.
(only pics I have so far up top, shitty hosting too - sorry)
I hope the three of you are very happy together.
