Fred is a very big, black dog.
And he sheds. Everywhere. And drools.
He is not house-trained and takes up more space than a St Bernard.
But, since Fred seems here to stay for a bit, allowances must be made.
I can’t deal with the big things right now, but I’ve learned some tricks over the years, some survival skills that are slowly kicking back in.
I will pick my battles.
I can’t handle everything, but I can handle the small things.
Each small thing I do I can count as a victory, even if usually, these things are so small I don’t even notice them.
I will get up and go to work.
As much as I want to lie in bed and revel in my self-induced misery, it won’t help and will just make it worse. It’s basically like patting the bed for Fred to jump up and make a nest in the covers. Before I know it, he’ll be taking over the whole damn bed and I’ll be sleeping on the floor while he snores in my Egyptian cotton (I wish) sheets.
I will dress well.
I want to live in sweatpants and a hoodie, but sometimes you have to fake it ‘til you make it. Dog hair is not PETA friendly.
I will eat.
This part is hard. I don’t want to, it makes me nauseous. Still, I know that I have to that I have to keep my body functioning even if my brain isn’t. Fred can pack away a lot of calories.
I will find something to smile at every day.
Yesterday there was a double rainbow that stretched across from horison to horison and it was beautiful. Fred whined and hid under the table.
I will not dwell on things I cannot change.
I can’t home every child on the streets. I can make sure my children have a good home. I can’t drop Fred of at the SPCA, but I can stop him howling.
I will not let my mind get the better of me.
It’s easy to let it run wild. Let Fred out without a leash and set him free on the neighbourhood, peeing on other people’s cars and growling at passersby.
Fred will go to obedience training and learn how to heel.
Basically, F#$k you Fred.