Dog Days

Tess in her heyday as our beloved dog child (excuse the freaky, glowing eyes)

Tess in her current pitiful, second class citizen state. Note the huge, mangled hot spot on her flank.

Tess. Sigh........ Tess is our dog. Matt and I got her almost a decade ago, not long after we made the move to Athens. We were young, in love, and living in sin- obviously it was time to adopt a dog child. There was no question about it, we were going for a shelter dog, preferably a large breed since I hate little yappy dogs. Much to our delight, we found an 8 month old lab mix that a shelter was giving away free because the dog had asthma. Never one to shy away from a good deal (free asthmatic dog? Awesome!) we adopted her despite the fact that she was wheezing, painfully skittish, flea-ridden and had the worst teeth imaginable. She didn't seem like such a bargain when we got her home and took her to the vet- his exact words "Take her back where you got her. This dog's about to die." She'd apparently had pneumonia over and over, and her lungs were ravaged. But despite the vet's dire predictions, she rallied after a course of steroids and antibiotics, and became one of the most loving, loyal dogs we could have ever asked for.

And we adored her. She had baskets of toys, we never went anywhere without her, hell, she even had a Snow White Halloween costume. She was our beloved dog child. Then, we had our first human child. Things kind of went downhill for Tess after that. I mean, we still loved her, but in our sleep-deprived haze, we often forgot to feed her, make sure she had clean water, and forget walks or trips to the dog park. As Mason got older and slept more, things improved for Tess. She never returned to her glory days as top dog, but at least she wasn't starving and thirsty.

Cue the twins arrival. Oh lord, if she thought things were bad when Mason came along, it's a wonder she didn't give up when the twins got here. If I had been her, I would have packed my chew toys in a hobo bindle and set out for greener pastures. (Who are we kidding, by that point, she didn't have chew toys anymore!) Now, not only was regular feeding out the window, our house was so full of people and stuff that she was frequently yelled at for being underfoot. Poor dog. Things have improved slightly. I remember to feed her most days, and she's learned to stay out of the way. But now she has to suffer the indignities the twins heap on her, including, (but not limited to) using her as a step stool, attempting to ride her, and poking her in the eye while saying "dog's eye?"

I think that the stress is getting to her. Over the past year or so, she's started to develop terrible hot spots and she's chewing herself bald and bloody. Today she had the mother of all hot spots, seriously, her flank looked like it had been mauled by a bear. I finally gave up and took her to the vet. He claimed it was a flea allergy, but I'm not convinced. Either way, I shelled out $150 to get her partially shaved, the hotspots treated, antibiotics and steroids and different flea medication. I hope it works, but really I think she just needs a vacation. A quiet place where no one will step on her or smear her with jelly. A house free of shrieking and screaming and fighting. So when I give up and run away to Tahiti, I'm taking Tess with me.