He’s broken me.

It happened yesterday.

He’s worn me down to the point of breakup.

And he knew it.

I left MTD in the kitchen yesterday while we were at work and I came home to a scene from a really bad “pet hoarder” documentary.

I put down towels in case he couldn’t ‘hold it’ but it was bad.    I’m sure he thought so too, like “what do you mean leaving me here in this small space when you know I can’t hold it!”.

At first it was disbelief.  Then I got mad.  Then I thought I’d get even!

“That’s it.  He is going to go to the big doggie heaven in the sky” is all I could think.  The cat looked on at the scene and between the ‘good God Almighty’ look of the cat and the ‘I’m sorry Mom’ look of the dog it hit me that I just wasn’t sure I could take much more.

I began the task of cleaning up the mess and during the middle of it MTD went completely blitzkrieg berserk.  He started barking, yelping, jumping, and running full speed around the house.  He crashed into tables, crashed into the couch, jumped on the couch, over the coffee table, under and over the dining room table, bashed up against the wall and another table before I was able to grab him, put a leash on him and take him outside for a complete run of hysteria down the street.

Mind you, this is the dog that can barely walk.  Now, his heart is going a mile a minute and he’s running aimlessly down the street panting and yelping trying to get away from whatever it was that had spooked him.  The adrenaline has channeled this invalid’s energy into a sled dog in full stride.  It was really a sight.

I wonder if it has anything to do with the 15 political pre-recorded phone calls per day we’ve been getting.  We are in campaign mode here in Illinois and ever since this new invention of auto dialing these candidates leave, I kid you not, every single day, 10 to 15 messages on our answering machine.  Like we really care.  Well, if I was home and had to listen to them I’m sure it would drive me crazy too, but this was something else.  Never experienced anything like this.

He calmed down eventually, running until the steam ran out and the pavement turned to a choppy path of uncleared ice and snow.  The back legs gave out on the uneven surface and he face planted full stop in the snow.

I could stop and take a breath.  We were next to one of our neighbors that has a dog I call Bear and when he saw us he came out to say hello and to find out what was wrong.  Bear nudged MTD  wondering why he was having such a hard time.  I then was able tofind a new use for my scarf.  Combined with Bears nudging and a scarf wrapped under his belly we got him up and out of the snow.

It was then that Bear suddenly busted his leash and now with nothing to hold him, my neighbor decided to leave us and head for home.  We did too fortunately.  Here we were, a crazed wannabe sled dog with a fuschia pink scarf under his belly and an owner wondering what the hell happens now.

Afterward I called Dr. Schwartz and relayed everything that had just gone on.  She told me to give it a day.  To make sure I don’t make a decision during a time when I’m emotional (nee hysterical).

I knew those brown eyes would get me.  He crawled up next to me and lied down, paws on my legs, his head resting on my lap.

I took two Tylenol and went to bed.  My head was hurting.  I awoke to hear MTD whining as he tried to get up the stairs.  The harness went on and I lifted him up.  I crawled back into bed and he crashed into his bed, and we both eventually drifted off to sleep.

I woke up in the middle of the night with chills.  I must be getting sick I thought.  I couldn’t get warm, even snuggling up next to Jim wasnt working.  I heard MTD wake up.  “God!  How do they know you’re awake?!?”.

Sigh.  We’re up and it’s 3:30am.

Today is another day and I have such a headache.  Two more Tylenol.  Some food and a little after 6am I take him for a walk, which ended up being pretty short, only half way down the block and back.  When we came home MTD kissed the cat (which has never happened) and a half hour later went outside and did his business.  It’s like he knows.  He knows he’s a few heartbeats away from getting an injection.  I swear they know.

He’s going to really give it a try, masking his senility as much as he can.  He leans up against me.  I pet him and look at him.

Dr. Schwartz was right.  I should just wait it out.  It’s very possible he could meet his maker without any direct involvement of my own.

I’m looking right now at a website for doggie wheelchairs.

I’m probably certifiable.

BTW.  The poinsettia blocks have taken a 24 hour break.