Tuesday, May 27, 2014

$1000 and COUNTING


Jesus... this little pet is SOME investment, alright. You have no idea. At the moment I'm just this shy from reaching a cost of... ahem... $1000 for Ollie. Hell.. that's a trip to Europe and back for me! It's totally crazy.

First off the bat was the adoption fee itself. Then of course came all the hordes of pet paraphernalia for the house and the dog. Next came the grooming cost. Next thing you know I'm paying the vet for a checkup and for heartworm and/or flea meds. Just yesterday was the pet insurance payment for a year. And... oh yeah. Throw in the cost of the microchip, too. Then next Thursday comes - boom. The cost for a dog trainer since get this... 

OLLIE HAS SEPARATION ANXIETY!! As in: a friggin' emotional disorder! IS THIS A JOKE???

Can you fucking believe this? Trust me... I was ready to down one Ativan for me AND one to the dog. Don't even ask. We're talking WAY more money than I ever wanted to put into this but hell. Now I'm like at the point of NO RETURN. Talk about unbelievable. In the meantime... 

Turns out Ollie apparently suffered from this diagnosis with his previous owner too. Geez. If it wasn't such a crazy ass kind of canine disorder, it'd almost be funny. Except... I'm NOT laughing. So the deal is:

While I'm at home, Ollie is indeed THE most perfect pet you could ever imagine. But the MINute I leave the house?? WHAMMO. ANXIETY KICKS IN AND OLLIE GOES NUTS. Well, kinda. He doesn't go nuts. He just GOES... RIGHT SMACK ON MY CREAM COLORED CARPETING no less. This whole thing kicks in just seconds after I pull out of the garage I suspect whereby 1-2-3 Ollie escapes from the puppy gate I put up for him. The SECOND, TALLER puppy gate, I might add since he apparently just climbed up and out of my original one. 

It's been like a major comedy of errors everytime I leave my house. I mean it... I OWN A DOG WHO CAN PULL OFF HEISTS??? Totally comical but SO not chuckling, here. It basically all boils down to this: every time I come home from somewhere, in no time at all, I'm cleaning up poop the pup obviously plopped. And you just KNOW this is sooooooo not up my alley! Ergo: my need for Miriam, the dog trainer. This unacceptable separation anxiety has GOT to stop!

Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I know... give him treats. Give him toys. Give him his bed. Let him see through the gate so he won't be claustrophobic. Give him. Give him. Give him. My God. The dog is almost like my REAL kid. All I know is that pretty soon, if all this doesn't get rectified and FAST... oh I'll be giving Ollie something, alright. The BOOT. I truly am trying to work all this out but man, it's CRAZY. Oh yeah... I even have a friend who's already offered to take Ollie in case things REALLY go south. However I'm not even going there yet. Keyword: yet.

Because seriously... other than this separation anxiety shit, Ollie is, as I've said a million times over... ABSOLUTELY PERFECT. AND ADORABLE. Thus I'm totally giving this entire deal the ole college try and I truly hope he can get past my leaving the house. Eeks. I'm a prisoner now? I mean really... I only considered Ollie in the first place, given I have a huge back yard to help meet every one of his personal toilet needs. I never even ONCE considered my CARpets having to wind up meeting those needs.


Besides... I've invested lots of money already on behalf of Ollie! Which is why I just think it's so ironic that Ollie is having toilet problems while I'm having financial problems going... where else... right smack down the toilet. Dear God: Please don't make me give Ollie some sort of doggie downers to clear up his separation problems. Better you should give them to ME. Thank you God. Amen.

For afterall... Ollie DOES have the potential of being the world's alltime most fantastic pet. Especially when, as you can see in the picture up above, he's sweetly fast asleep. 

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