It wasn't about the dog park, it's about autism

One of the advantages of having a blog (not to include the adoration, popularity and buckets of money being thrown my way) is that I have a forum where I get the last word. Sometimes, that's helpful. So I can tell you about my run in with the crazy woman at the dog park last night and that might be healing.

Last night was just like any other summer night. The days are so hot that we wait to take the dog to the park until evening. That works well, most of the time. Poppy was her usual boisterous self, bouncing from one dog to the next, having a grand old time. There is a smallish Austrailian Sheperd that is pretty obnoxious. It flits back and forth, trying to herd the dogs, barking in their faces. I have seen it there for the last week or so. It likes to bark at Poppy. She pretty much takes it stride, the way she takes it all in stride. She is big, bouncy, but harmless. She is big, and black, and that seems to put people on edge who aren't familiar with Newfoundlands. Read: just about most people. There is even a name for it among newfy owners: Big Black Dog Syndrome.

Poppy figures that since this dog is yapping in her face, she must want to play, so they were chasing and bouncing, so far nothing out of the ordinary. The little dog was on its back and Poppy was standing over it, the way dogs do. This crazy nut job went over and started kicking my dog! You need to understand, I am rarely more than six feet away at any given time, and usually even closer than that. I am the original "helicopter parent" when it comes to my dog. At any point, if she starts getting too rambunctious, or if the other dog looks like he isn't having fun, I pull her out of the fray, and we take a break. I am a responsible owner. I read books, I educate myself. I have learned dog body language and figured out what to watch for. My dog is not aggressive. And even in play, I would never allow my dog to go too far with another dog. So when this, for want of a better word, bitch, started kicking my dog I lost it.

I would never hit anyone. But I started yelling at her. She tried to say my dog was "biting" hers. Her dog was driving the play! Some other guy (I cannot call him a man) who was so good at watching his dog that I never even knew which dog was his (that's sarcasm) said it was my fault and I needed to get my dog under control. Know this: Poppy is at the dog park five or six times a week. She does not have a control problem. I can pull her out when the play gets to be too much. She takes a time out. After she was attacked by another dog (and I was bitten) I worked really hard on this. His accusations were completely unfounded.

One of the most frustrating things that I find about myself is that if I am in the right and I feel persecuted, I cannot have an argument when it gets heated. I lose all eloquence and cannot form a coherent thought. Basically, I sound like an idiot. This time, not only did that happen, I was going to cry. Time to get the hell out of there. My brain short-circuited. As I was leaving, I uttered words to make a sailor blush. I am not proud of my behavior, and I am furious at myself for acting that way. Fight or Flight kicked in and I lost it.

Once I got to the car, I burst into tears, and promptly had a panic attack. I couldn't breathe and I felt like my heart was in shards. I continued to cry after we got home, locked myself in my room, and just couldn't function. What the hell is the matter with me? I just don't know. But after sleeping on it, I think I know a bit more of what set me off.

I have a stressful life. It isn't anyone's fault; it's just the way the cards were dealt. Most of the time, it's ok. Last night, it just hit the fan. I was devastated that someone was rejecting my dog. While you may want to laugh at that, consider this: it was just one more special-needs "kid" in my family who was snubbed. In other words, it was a trigger for me.

For the last seventeen or so years, I have watched one or another of my children struggle to make friends, be accepted, be loved. I have stood by while being silently judged, "WHY can't you stop that child from tantruming/having trouble with social stimuli/being rigid?" I have endured the cold shoulder from parents who have decided that my child isn't worthy of their child's time because she is "different." I have watched my son embarrass himself in front of others and be completely oblivious of their reaction. I have seen my daughter be left out of social events because she doesn't like the same things as her peers, and watched her cry over her lack of acceptance. So, no, I will not apologize for losing it at the dog park when people who had no idea about actual dogs judged my dog as beneath theirs. I will not.

I realize how ridiculous this sounds. She's a dog. I get it. For me, it was about more than the dog. I had a reason to be angry over my dog's treatment, but the anger I really felt was misplaced. It was grief.

Over the years, I have had to come to terms with the fact that I did not give birth to cheerleaders. There is no Big Man On Campus in my home. Indeed, there is no campus. None of my children will get the lead in the school play, though they might be in the chorus. I did not give birth to "popular" kids. The phone doesn't ring for play dates much. I am actually ok with this. What I am not ok with is how others see them. They are smart, generally well-mannered (if you don't count the twelve year old and his twelve-year old boy behavior) and loving children. They deserve better. They deserve friends who like them for who they are. And they deserve grown ups, who should know better, that give them a chance and don't automatically write them off as playmate for their kids because they are "different." I am fucking tired of this. That's right, I just used "fucking" on my blog, for the first time, ever. I am done.

So. You are on notice. If you snub my child, I will call you on it. I will try to do it kindly, but I will do it. In an era when we are trying to pay attention to others' rights and difficulties, I will call you on bad behavior, leaving out my children simply because they have autism. I am done being nice. Now I am fighting back.

Christmas Comes But Once a Year (thank GOD!)

I am not a fan of the holidays. I know, hard to believe, right? My mother is a huge lover of the Christmas season. She would bake for days, shop, and stay up all night to wrap presents on Christmas Eve. Her packages were works of art. The magical mornings of peeking at the tree while it was still dark to find that Santa had been there and artfully arranged the presents are some of the best memories of my childhood. And I want my children to have that, I do. And I try to do all of the things my mother did, but I just...can't. And so. I pretty much hate Christmas.

Every year I tell myself it will be different. I will start earlier. I will have a better attitude. But by mid-December I am usually stressed out, ready to curl up in a fetal position, and wait for it all to be over. Instead, I pull myself up, give myself a good talking-to, and finish the preparations at the last minute amidst much self-loathing. It isn't fun.

And this year? Is going to be even less fun. My eldest, JBug, goes in for spinal surgery on the 15th of December, which means I have to have everything done TEN days earlier than usual. She will be in the hospital for at least five days, but should be home for Christmas. So I will have little time to scour the shops, maul the mall, or gilt the gift. I have to just get it over with quickly.

So on that note, I am trying to get into the spirit faster than usual, which is why I found this little video of Newfoundland dogs dressed up for Christmas and carrying things in carts. I hope it brings you joy.

T.

I am now officially a dog person

Today was Poppy's first experience with meeting other Newfs. JNerd and I loaded her into the car and headed out to the Fall 2010 Draft Test. We made sure to keep a wide berth between Poppy and the entrants of the trial. We didn't want her distracting them. We were just there to watch, and to meet new people. She is not ready for competition at this point. Overall, she did really well. There was a bit of feistiness at first...after all, she had never been at Huntington Central Park before, and it is a bit different from most of the parks she has been to. It has more of a wilderness feel, I think. But for the most part, she settled quickly.

I was able to meet another Newf.net member, Rebekah, which is another reason to be thankful for the Interwebs. Newf.net is a bulletin board I belong to, where I chat with other newfie owners from all over the world. This particular person was from the L.A. area and I was really excited to meet another newfoundland owner. It was nice to put a face to the name, and meet her pup Artie, as well.

Poppy played and sniffed a couple of other Newfoundlands, which was quite funny. Watching her see another newf for the first time: her eyes widened and she whined, and just seemed overjoyed to find dogs like her. Maybe I am anthropomorphizing too much, but it really seemed like she wanted to know them! She was able to play a bit with a couple of the dogs, and of course, next to me, she loves other dogs best.

She also met other people, and some kids. Except for a small bit of jumping at first contact, she was very obedient. We are still working on the initial approach. She has never had a problem with jumping up, but recently she has just started greeting people in this way. After the first small lunge, she settles and sits nicely for me. I just need to stop her from jumping up at all!

After we were there, she settled down, and actually listened. She watched me when bikes and joggers and other dogs came by, which is a huge thing for her. She sat and lie down when I told her to stay. She shook hands and high-fived, and I was just really proud of her.

She is now sacked out, absolutely dog-tired after her little adventure. It is a lot of fun having a Newf, and it was inspiring to see the well-trained beautiful dogs of the club members. I can see now what I have to work towards. She'll get there. Too bad kids aren't as easily trained as dogs!

T, who seems to be a dog person now

Why you need large balls of fur in your house

Pets are weird. Not as weird as kids, but weird enough. I know so many people who don't want to bother with animals, because they are a pain in the butt. And yes, they are. But honestly? They bring such joy to our lives. No one loves you like your dog. Ever. And cats? Are like little codependent vampires who sort of love you. When they want to.

The beautiful thing about pets? They seem to understand instinctively about kids with autism. We have a cat who is a bit standoffish with everyone else. Except for my son. I would say she is mostly his cat. She sleeps in his bed, and helps him to calm down. She tolerates him better than she does anyone else.

And this weekend, I found out just how wonderful our Newf is. I have plans to make her a therapy dog at some point. She proved she just might be up to that task. JBean was throwing a tantrum (yes, again) and sitting on the floor. The dog was lying across the room. She army crawled to her until her nose was just inches from JBean's feet. Then she just waited quietly for JBean to come to her. And they laid on the floor together, kid and dog, just...being. Yes, she calmed down. It was good.

Like this:

how about you? Are you a cat person, a dog person or do you prefer no fur balls at all?

T, who figures the fleabags are worth most of the trouble they cause

The only morning action I get is a hairy drooler

So it's 6:30 in the morning. I have just been awakened (rather rudely, I might add!) by a giant dog who just ka-thumped her paws on the bed to remind me that she has needs, too, ya know! Right now, her need is to pee. She ka-thumps back down, and waits, as patiently as a giant 5 month old puppy can while I wipe the sleep from my eyes and reach for my glasses. (and I was having such a good dream, too! Guess Johnny Depp will have to wait for another day). I trudge out to the front door, clad in my purple plaid flannel pajamas, dog in tow. And we grab the treats, (for after she "gets busy") her booda bone rope toy (in case she decides to chew on the leash) and the breath spray (in case the rope toy doesn't work) so that she can do her business.

In that short time, on our moderately busy residential side street, a few cars go by, beginning their morning commute. I am standing out in my front yard, my pajama-clad butt and flip-flops for all the world to see. But priorities are important, and mine is sleep. I don't care if people see at that time in the morning.Once she's done, we trudge back in, and being the absolute non-morning person that I am, we go back to bed. (Vampires? They learned to fear mornings from me.)

Fast forward to 8:30 a.m. or midnight… I kind of care. I care enough to want to wear jeans, but wow, how uncomfortable are they for just lounging around the house? I guess I could wear yoga pants, but the cotton gets kind of breezy, especially with our cool summer nights. Very much a first world problem, I know. Still, trying to find a solution has been frustrating. When the dog has to go, she has to go!

Enter:

pajama jeans! Completely affordable, yet look snazzy.

These amazing pants that I wear the hell out of (no really, I am wearing them RIGHT NOW) are a lightweight pull on low-rise spandex jean. They have no zippers, and no seams, and I totally know what you are thinking, because so did I: retirement early-bird diner specials, right? But they don't look like your mother's jeans…they are stylish. And they are comfortable, feeling a lot like a pair of work out pants. Except? I can run to Target or Fresh & Easy and not look like I just stepped out of the gym. No schlubbiness here! I can even throw on some heels and head to dinner! But first, no doubt I will have to walk the dog.

T, who wishes mornings came LATER

I wasn't paid to write this,no one told me I had to, but was given a great pair of these jeans, that I really DO wear the hell out of, or I wouldn't review. I promise. AND? they are totally affordable, at only $39.95. WITH a bonus t-shirt!

Doggone it, I want a dog!

Image via Wikipedia

I am starting to feel the need for a dog again. I have tried to resist, we all have. But the pull is getting stronger. I keep seeing pictures and jonesing. Last night, we were watching Pit Boss, about dogs. And when the urge became too strong, I turned it off to watch Kevin Smith instead. And what does he talk about? Dogs! There seems to be a conspiracy in the Universe. It's a huge decision, because in this house, pets are very, very long-term commitments.

I have always wanted a Newfoundland. I adore large dogs. I am only concerned that it is too hot in Orange County for a big, furry behemoth of a dog whose breed was birthed in a cold Canadian province. And can you imagine wet, sandy, furry dog, who drools everywhere constantly? I have also been told that due to the natural oils in their coat, they have to washed frequently or they make marks on the wall. But the heart knows no reason. From the time I was in high school and saw my first one, I want a Newf. Impractical for so many reasons. But really, I already deal with special needs, isn't this just another special need. Kind of endears me more to the breed.

A dog wasn't always an option. A year ago, my youngest had a phobia of dogs. This was partly due to overactive imagination and also due to the crazed chihuahua who lived next door and liked to attack my children when they stepped foot out of our front door. Thankfully, those awful neighbors who would not corral their mutt are gone now. And after a turn with my parents last month, who brought their dog while JNerd and I were in New Zealand, now JBean is all about getting a dog. We will more than likely end up with a another shelter dog, because, really, it feels good to give a dog a second lease on life. And I do go back and forth… I like the fact that with cats you can leave for the day or even a couple of days- and the cats can fend for themselves pretty freely. Dogs need to be walked and since they are pack animals, tend to get depressed if the pack leaders leave for any length of time. It is a lot like having another kid. But then I remind myself that I am done having babies, and maybe this is a stand-in.

I do love my cats, don't get me wrong. But when Tess, our sweet dog of 12 years died a couple of years ago, my son, then 9 I think, looked at me tearfully and said, "I just can't be a boy, without a dog!"

I understand the sentiment, son. Something about a member of the canine persuasion completes me, too. And so. We will be getting a Newf sometime this spring. It's ok if you think I am crazy, all of my friends would agree with you. And I am ok with that.

T, who needs a baby in the house..is it Spring Fever?

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