5/22/15 Tests are Normal

Woof! (tail wags)

First, let me tell all of you that my tests came back 100% completely normal, so I am physically not fighting anything worse than an ear infection at this time.

Doctor Craig gave Mom some medicine for me because I am, well, anxious, stressed, and hyper. Now, you might be wondering, “What does a dog have to be hyper about?”

Let me answer. Being left alone, being starved, being beaten, other dogs, being over-bred, being fought…these are all things that weigh on a dog’s mind, especially if she did not have a good puppyhood, I am sad to say.

I know I am in a great home with humans who love me. But I am having a hard time leaving the past behind. My humans love me so much and I am afraid it will end. I hate to see them walking out the door. It makes me sick.

At first, my stress got much better, then it started getting worse. I think it’s because I love my people so much more than I did before. Love is a dual-edged sword, I think.

Anyway, Mom is giving me the medicine and I am taking it like a good girl. I feel like a different dog already. For example, Mom, Jamie, and I went on the front porch and, after initially sniffing and taking stock of the neighborhood goings-on, I lay down at Mom’s feet and just relaxed. It’s been so very, very, hard for me to relax. Mom and Jamie gave me lots of praise for just relaxing.

They also took me to the woods for an hour and a half walk. Mom said she would walk until the bottom of her foot started hurting. (She is almost all healed and doing great.) So we walked and walked and walked. Later, Mom drove to the car wash.

What horror is this? Going into a dark tunnel and suddenly bombarded by sounds and smells. I lay down in the back seat with my head in my paws. Jamie talked and talked to me. Mom felt bad that I was frightened, but said she hadn’t wanted to put me in the crate and leave me just yet.

So, I weathered the car wash, but I think Mom is not going to take me back there since I don’t like it.

I’ve been a good dog all day, no accidents at night or anything, while Jamie and Mom prep and clean the house for company this weekend. I am happy we are having family over to stay for a day or two.

Mom says that is the “big test” of how this new medicine is working – how I am around people. Another “big test” is how I do around other animals. But for now, one test at a time.

Woof! Love, Maggie (formerly Magzilla)

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9/2/13 Guest Blogger: Mom Speaks Again, “Reflections”

My fur baby, Maggie

It sounds cliche to say that having my first child changed my life, but it did.  I had hoped for a strapping baby boy, and I definitely got my wish!  Much later, and better prepared for parenthood (I thought), I welcomed my second son.  However, I was sick with anxiety and post-partum depression, and had horrible nightmares of dropping the new baby down the stairs, over the railing, or some other unimaginable tragedy, always with the same, inevitable result.  I spent a lot of time in a cold sweat, nerves jumping up and down as if on a psychological trampoline.

One of the ways I found some relief was to rest with my infant son.  With my hand on his chest, listening to him breathe, a feeling of relaxation would sweep over me, soothing my anxious brain like a lullaby.

Time has passed and my children have grown.  No longer can I lie with my hand over their hearts, marveling at their capacity to soothe and heal.

In May of this year, I adopted my fur baby, an American Staffordshire Terrier named Maggie.  True to her two-legged brothers, she has the wonderful power to settle down and heal her human mother.  Time after time, when Life has chewed me up, I call to my dog and lie with her, stroking her chest or back as the demons work their way out of my brain.  Patiently she stays by my side while my nerves un-frazzle.  It is a continual source of consternation and amazement to me that others would fight these nurturing creatures, or limit people’s ability to have one as a companion.   Am I going to win any Better Homes & Gardens awards for my sparkly-clean house?  No.  In the earlier years, my home had a wealth of toy trains, cars, airplanes, robots, Disney movies, and Cheerios dotting the carpet and furniture.  Now, my house is littered with shreds of “guaranteed indestructible” dog toys, dog accessories, dog-hair dust bunnies and the like,  but, I don’t care, because in my fractured daily existence, my dog helps keep me whole.  And that is far more important than a perfect house.  It makes the kids growing up a little easier, too.  Thank you, Maggie.

6/15/13 Grandma, and the Rainy Day Rocket

Grandma is here for another visit.  Even though I was very happy to see her, I didn’t jump.  Well, to tell the truth, I would have jumped, but Mom was holding my collar.  But soon I calmed down and got a treat for not jumping, so it all worked out for the best.

Dad says Grandma has “dementia”.  That’s a big word for a dog, but I’m pretty sure that’s the reason why Grandma acts like a young pup one minute and an old dog the next.  It makes Dad and Mom very sad to see.  I try to cheer them up.  Mom says Grandma is from “The Greatest Generation”, and I know that has something to do with history from Jamie.  Jamie knows all about “The Greatest Generation” because he loves history, and always has his snout in a book about it.

Speaking of Jamie, I can’t jump on him, either, because he slept on his pillow funny last night and now he is walking around with his head on crooked.  I’m afraid to go near him.  This is one of the reasons I do not sleep on the humans’ beds.  You just never know what’s going to happen up there, and what if you have to make a dash for the front door and get tangled up in blankets and stuffed animals?  I know a Greyhound once who was sleeping on a human bed and fell two feet to the floor when she rolled over.  Nearly broke a leg.  Now Jamie is walking around all slouched to one side.  No, sir, beds are horrible places.  The middle of the kitchen floor is much safer.

Today was cloudy, wet, and rainy, so naturally I was feeling my most energetic and mischievous.  I guess I kind of turn into a rainy day rocket.  First, I sneaked around and chewed every pair of shoes I could find.  Then, when Mom opened the back door to let some cool breeze in, I bolted out the screen door, ripped around the yard a couple of times right through the mud puddle next to the swing set, then a clear shot back into the kitchen, knocking three magnets off the screen door and sending them flying every which way. 

Unfortunately, my paws were wet, and as I came into the kitchen at max velocity “hairy bullet” style, I lost my footing, smacked into a kitchen chair, sending it skidding across the floor, and bumped my head – hard – on the table leg.  Dazed, I shook myself, and drops of water flew everywhere.  Mom felt sorry for me, even though I got her wet, and felt my head all over for lumps, then gave me a treat. 

The middle of the kitchen floor is looking pretty good right about now.  I think it might be time to calm down and take a breather!

6/2/13 A Chew Toy Kinda Sunday

I’ve been home for three weeks.  I’m getting the hang of this Sunday thing.  Everybody is here and we just relax.  It finally didn’t rain, and I got to play outside for a while.  We listened to music, which I’m not afraid of anymore, and actually like now, especially Pitbull (of course) and Will.i.am, and we played games, too. 

My people left for a short time and put me in the crate.  I wasn’t happy about that, but when they came back, they completely made up for it by bringing me a new bed, two new chew toys, and a delicious dinner of kibble and beef stew with gravy. 

I think the best possible thing has been Dad putting up that screen door.  Compared to when I first got here, I am in and out and all over the house and the yard now.  Things are looking up for me.  It’s been a good day.  A chew toy kinda Sunday.