Puppy Prozac and Other Musings

I may have just jumped off the deep end. Before I knew what I was saying, I had agreed to adopt my brother's 107 lb, hefty, golden retriever, Sarah Lee. Or as we like to call her Sara WEEEEEE! In a high pitch voice that makes everyone around you cringe. She is a beautiful girl, and one of the sweetest dogs I've ever met. Though she may be one of the laziest dogs I've ever met. She has a lot of extra poundage on her, but hey who am I to talk? I myself am pleasantly plump. Her tail is so long and strong that it should be registered on the homeland security list of weapons of mass destruction. I’ve seen her knock some things over with that tail numerous times. And the day I met her 8 years ago, I fell in love.

Adam and I were planning on getting a dog when I started my job at the end of the month. But a small dog, one that you can fit in your purse and carry everywhere you go. I kid, I kid, I would never pull a Paris Hilton. But a golden retriever was definitely not part of the picture. But life seems to be making its own plans lately.

You see, my brother is going through a pretty nasty divorce. This divorce has been heartbreaking for the whole family. They have been together for over 15 years now, since they were teenagers. And they have two beautiful children together. It’s a divorce that involves drugs, mental illness, and affairs. There is so much pain going around, that I can’t even begin to wrap my head around it all. My brother is moving with my nieces into a small apartment now, and they no longer have room for such a large dog. They don’t want to send Sarah to the pound, and it may sound silly but I feel like dogs are the innocent victims in all of this mess.

So as I'm talking to my mother, making the arrangements to fly Sarah out here, she tells me this hilarious story about her friend Kirsten and her dog. As a kind of warning for having a dog out here in California. Not too long ago, Kirsten was living in Los Angeles, with her new husband and their two dogs. One dog was her husbands from his single days, and the other was hers. In California they have numerous dog parks, some of which are leashed and some of which are unleashed.

So one day they had their dogs unleashed and they were strolling around the park, when her husband's dog went up to another dog and “scared” him. Now he didn't actually bite him, he just barked at him a little. The owner of the second dog insisted that they exchange numbers, and she then reported her to the doggie police (or whoever it is you call). So they had to go to doggie court, and the puppy was sentenced to therapy!

Doggie therapy?!? I've never heard of such a thing. I mean I’ve seen the Dog Whisperer from time to time, but that’s not really therapy. So anyway they took the puppy to therapy, and the therapist concluded the dog was acting out because of Kirsten. This was because SHE had moved into the house without explaining it to the dog, so she had DISRUPTED the dog's life. Basically she told them, that Kirsten was like the "evil" stepmother. She even prescribed the puppy Prozac. I said, "Good Grief! How did they get all this from a dog? Apparently the counselor spent an entire hour staring into the dog's eye. They of course got strapped with a huge bill, and everyone else got a good laugh.