Dec 4th 2017

Feverish ramblings. in People suck. Cats are awesome. Dogs are alright.

•  Dec. 4, 2016, 2:52 a.m.
 
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• Public

So we went Yuletide shopping today. I underdressed and froze and now I have a fever and body aches and my throat and sinuses hurt; but it was fun, so it was worth it.

I discovered diamond patterned led string lights, and dear gods are they beautiful. Hypnotic. We bought two strings, one for my room, and one for the living room. I know that my reaction to certain textures and visual stimulus is unusual. The husband seemed happy that I love them so much, but he can’t appreciate them on the same level that I can, which is unfortunate.  I’ll call this one of those rare circumstances where a touch of autism is a positive. I get the same way over the better quality microfiber bath mats and car shammys. I’ve got one on a bedside table that I occasionally just run my fingers through. Sensory processing disorder isn’t all bad.

I was disappointed that none of the stores in the shopping center that we went to had fiber optic Christmas trees. Until we get a vehicle next year, running all over town is a pain I’m the ass, so I bought one from Wal-Mart online, to be delivered. The Male wanted to do the online purchasing himself, which he never does, so I’m guessing he bought me something while he was at it.

Me, I go for quantity in gifts. He goes for quality. We’ve got a few hundred a piece to spend on each other, so I’m getting him one $100+ thing, and a bunch of less expensive stuff. I like the unwrapping and wrapping of presents. Therefore, maximum gifts.

Him, he’ll buy just a few things, and one will be something above and beyond what we can even afford. I long ago quit trying to make him understand that putting off a bill so he can buy me something ridiculous is stupid and ultimately only causes more stress. The man is a blockhead. I mean I appreciate it and all, but no.

I should go get some Ibuprofen. But I don’t feel like moving.

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My friend about the storage has just stopped replying to my messages. She didn’t make it down there to see her family for Thanksgiving like she wanted to, but she said “oh well next week!!”. So I offered to PayPal her some gas money. To which she said that she doesn’t have PayPal, and that she didn’t need gas money, but that if I could find Lego Harry Potter for the PSP, that would be great. So found it on eBay, and told her that it would probably take five days to get to me, and another five to get to her, so she’d have to get down there by the tenth; (as in: I’m not buying her a game until she looks at my storage), and I said, ” is that okay?”;  and that was several days ago, and she hasn’t replied. Great f@#$ing “friend”.

So back to writing an ad for Craigslist I go. Wish me luck, internet strangers.

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As far as the leaping gargoyle that I call a dog, things have radically improved since I put her crate upstairs. I can’t hear her and neither can the Male, except when she barks. So nobody yells at her, so she’s stopped whining.

I cleared about an eight foot semicircle of floor by the front door and tied a piece of clothesline to it. Long enough for her to get to her chair in front of the heater, so she can sit beside me, but not long enough to unplug anything, and the cats can get away from her, so they’re happy. I piled her toys there and folded up her blanket on the floor, and she seems comfortable there. She doesn’t just stay there, obviously, but when we’re awake and otherwise preoccupied, it gives her a safe space to be.

She’s tapping the bells by the door fairly consistently now. I credit the actual meat I’ve been giving her when she goes outside.

Given all of this improvement, I’m buying her a nice muzzle from Amazon, so I can try to “socialize” her. I’ll try walking her down past her mother’s house to see if I can keep her from going berserk when there are other people or dogs around. I’ve been watching YouTube videos on the subject. We shall see. With the bred in pitbull trait of being aggressive towards other dogs, I don’t expect it to be easy. Hence the muzzle. I’m getting this one: https://www.amazon.com/Baskerville-2-Inch-Rubber-Muzzle-Size-5/dp/B0051H45GC/ref=zg_bs_2975344011_1?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=Y24ABC332PX4K1QCH1M3  I like that it allows you to give the dog treats, or for her to pant.

I also learned, from watching a documentary on pitbulls, why bapping her on the head and telling her “no” accomplishes nothing. That’s what I was doing, early on, when she’d nip me, and all she does is bite again, if you do that. She takes a slap like you’re playing, and doesn’t recognize the concept of it as a reprimand at all. I thought she was exceptionally thick headed, or stubborn, or intellectually challenged. No, dogs who have been bred to fight have an unusually high pain tolerance. Which makes sense, since only the dogs who can take the most abuse get bred.

I whimper like a dog in pain when she accidentally pinches me or pokes me now. That works.

Which means we won’t be getting a shock collar, because I’d probably have to light her up like a proverbial Christmas tree to get any reaction at all, and I’m not going to be frying my dog. Especially when she’s doing so well.

I brought her some French fries and and a new toy today. It’s a textured rubber tube thing with knotted stretchy rope through it. A Caesar Milan official toy, whoopdidoo. She likes it. She thrashed it against the floor as if it were a rabid badger or something. She just loves slinging things. I guess that’s neck-breaking behavior. Grab something and whip the living hell out of it.

Which is why I instilled in her from day one that the cats are family. When she was tiny, I’d hold her and press her nose into one of the cat’s fur, and say, “tell Pumpkin that we love her!”, and she’d be all waggy and happy. So she just wants to love on the cats. But they just hiss and run away. It’s kind of sad, actually.

By the time I’m done, I’ll have countless hours put into making this hopping terror into an amicable traveling companion. Which brings up another thing, over which I have no control: Breed specific laws.

Everywhere we plan to go, I’ll have to check ahead and see if she’s even allowed to be there for a few days, while we vend. And that, boys and ghouls, is f@#$ing stupid.

I may end up being a pitbull crusader, vending at festivals with my enormous leaping gargoyle, giving yet another example of what should already be a well established and understood fact.

I wish she were calm enough to hang out with me while I sit here, ill . But she can’t sit still unless she’s asleep.