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Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

I’ve failed miserably as a dog owner. A little over a year ago, I had voices in several directions(one of which was my own) insisting that I had a puppy sized hole in my life. When I was growing up, we had many dogs in our family; but the only one that I ever truly considered mine was a miniature dachshund named Daisy. She was one of the best things to ever happen in my life. She was playful when I needed her to be, and chill when I needed her to be that. She was incredibly loyal and also independent. She helped me through difficult times that you go through as a kid, and one that no kid should have to go through in the death of a parent. She was my perfect dog. Then one evening she started having problems and exhibited that she was in pain. Our veterinarian gave me some direction to make her comfortable for the night and I knew the inventible was coming the next morning when we were to bring her in. As if she were giving me a final gift, she passed away in her sleep that night and didn’t make me have to suffer through a painful decision the next morning. I was devastated. Every stereotype about a boy and his dog were true of us.

I’m a dog person. I love them. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a cat hater; but being allergic, I have a bias built in. I love dogs. I love to pet them, I love to push away their faces so they don’t lick me to death. I love to throw a ball, a stick, a frisbee, anything to have them bring it back to me to do all over again. I love sitting down with a dog by my side or sitting still in my lap to help calm me down and absorb positive energy on a bad day. So I was having a rough end to 2015 and start to 2016. A lot of things hit me from a lot of different directions. It was suggested I needed a puppy, so I started searching sites for rescues that might fit. A free a couple months, I got a call from my Sister in law and niece about a puppy that was wandering around their neighborhood. She had been with two different families and was about to be given up on and sent to the pound. I needed a dog and she needed a home. A “win/win situation” if ever there was one. I went to the store and bought things that dogs need; food, bedding, toys, treats. No expense too much for a new member of the family. I was informed that while she pooped a lot, she always did so outside; and although she was full of energy, she sure was sweet and loved to cuddle.

I got her home, and the first night unsure of her surroundings, she was calm and quiet and happy to sit and be petted. That lasted one night. What I’ve discovered the more than 365+ plus days since is that she needs way more than I can give. She is highly energetic and rarely sits still. Instead of a calming presence that can help calm me down on a bad day, she’s naturally spastic and stresses me out. I’ve researched and tried calming tricks but she can’t change her spots and I don’t want her too. I’ve been just as stubborn as her over a year. Trying to make it work, trying not to give up on her. Always feeling like a terrible person when I just want her to sit still for 5 minutes. She’s a good dog, a sweet dog; but she’s a dog that needs more than this guy can give her.

As much as I’ve joked and “complained” about her, I’ve become attached to her; and it will pain me to give her up, but I’m not doing either of us any favors in the current situation. I’ve never broken up with a girl. Always been on the other side of the equation. I imagine it would be harder than this in some respects, but that’s kind of what this feels like. I will feel like a terrible person either way. Because I know there’s a better situation for us both, but I hate the fact that there’s heartache before it.

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