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My kid ate what?!

by Jana 13 Comments

Since I’m at FinCon12 this week, please enjoy this post from an old blog of mine. Trust me when I say that this is the first of many child inspired posts that will be coming your way shortly (hey, I spend a lot of time with her…I need to get something out of it)!

Because everything about this screams “delicious”.

As a parent, I try to be very careful about what my child eats. I try to limit sugars, fat, preservatives…all the standard stuff you hear parents say. I’m not perfect and I do let things slide from time to time. I’ve accepted my imperfection with that. Unfortunately, there is one food she ate that will definitely keep me out of the parenting hall of fame.

Once upon a time, when my daughter was an infant and toddler, we fed the dogs in the kitchen. They each had their own bowl of food which was left out for them to graze on throughout the day. It was a method that worked well for our family and we weren’t about to change it. We were happy. Until one day…

I believe it was around dinner time. I was doing something at the stove and my daughter was playing on the floor with some toys or books. She was happy, quiet and content and I went about my business of cooking dinner. Periodically, I would turn around to check on her. I think all of three minutes elapsed between one check and another and when I turned around, I saw my darling daughter sitting in front of the dog bowls.

At first, I thought it was harmless. I thought she was just trying to encourage one of the dogs to eat. But then I saw it. The moment that changed our happy eating arrangements. I saw my daughter eating from the dog bowl.

She sat there, happy as could be, giant smile on her face and her mouth stuffed with kibble. She looked like a squirrel storing nuts for the winter. It was horrifying. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry so I did the only rational thing I could think of. I screamed.

I think the sound that came out of my mouth were “Ohmygodchildwhataredoinggetthatoutofyourmouthrightnow!!!” This exclamation/declaration was followed by me bolting across the kitchen. Keep in mind, I don’t move quickly. I am slow and I am short. However, I think I made it across my entire kitchen in under 2 seconds. I made Usain Bolt look like a slug.

And then in what was a stealth, ninja-esque move, my hands were inside my daughter’s mouth, scooping out literally a handful of half-chewed kibble. From each cheek. It was the most disgusting thing I have ever had to do. As a parent, you expect to do gross things. Change a poopy diaper, clean up blood or vomit, play in piles of dirt, etc. Never do you expect that you will scoop half-eaten dog food out of your toddler’s mouth. But that’s what I had to do. I couldn’t let her swallow it because all I had was visions of rushing her to the emergency room and having to explain why my poor little daughter was writhing in pain while smelling like kibble and then having to defend to DFS that she did it voluntarily and it wasn’t some twisted punishment and having them not believe me.

With those fears tucked firmly inside my head, I extracted the kibble with the precision of a drunk elephant. But I got it out. Then I was presented with another dilemma. Where do I put the mushy, saliva covered, slimy mound of ick that was in my hands? I still can’t remember what I did with it. I’d like to think I threw it in the trash but I’m pretty sure I just threw it on the kitchen floor to deal with later (though I’m also pretty sure that the dogs ate it. After all, it was pre-chewed. Less work for them).  I couldn’t deal with it at that exact moment because I had now become all consumed with disinfecting my child’s mouth.

I remember bringing her to the bathroom to brush her teeth. A lot. Like Lady MacBeth hand-washing a lot. At first I thought I was brushing her teeth just to get the nastiness of the dog food out of her mouth but as the event progressed, I realized I was also brushing her teeth to get the smell of the dog food off her breath. Let me tell you, if you think dog food breath is bad on a dog, it’s 10x worse on a child.

After about 5 or 6 brushings, I gave up. I resigned myself to the fact that I did the best I could, even if she smelled like kibble. At least she didn’t ingest any and we would not have a midnight visit from DFS.

But something happened that day that temporarily transformed my daughter. I’m not saying there’s anything magical in the dog food but for about 6 months after that, she developed an affinity for sitting in the dog crates, both with and without the dogs. It remains the strangest habit she’s ever had (and believe me when I say she’s had many strange habits over the last 3 1/2 years).  She’s outgrown it now, thankfully, but we were concerned for a bit.

So there it is. My kid ate dog food and then temporarily thought she was a dog. I can’t imagine she’s the only one to ever do this. Please tell me I’m not wrong. Please?!

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Enter…cat #2

by Jana 11 Comments

The other night, something happened that I never thought would happen in my lifetime. It was almost midnight, my husband and I had just finished letting the dogs out for their final out for the night (after watching The Hunger Games) and there I was, in my white, fuzzy, polka dot bathrobe, feeding and petting our two cats.

I am becoming the crazy cat lady. And I don’t really like cats that much.

However, what I dislike more than cats are horrible, asshole owners who move and leave their unwanted pets behind. And then said pets are left to fend for themselves, yet are unable to do so properly and find themselves malnourished, scared, and covered with ticks and fleas. And because I cannot watch an animal suffer, that cat then comes into my care because apparently on my house there is a flashing neon sign that reads “Homeless Cat Shelter. All Are Welcome”. And the cats know it.

One thing I’ve learned about cats is that they are not cooperative for photo shoots.

Over the years that we’ve been taking care of Boots, our actual cat, numerous other cats have come and gone. They stay for a few days, eat the food, rest up a bit, and then move on. I don’t mind the transient population so much. At least they’re kind enough to do what they need to do and don’t leave us any presents (like carcasses, hairballs or something even more disgusting). But every once and while, a cat comes to our shelter and stays. Then she gets a name and voila! She’s now our new pet.

This just happened to us a few weeks ago. We’re pretty sure we know where this new cat came from because the timing of her arrival is way too coincidental with people who admittedly hate their cat moving away very suddenly (I’m deciding it’s an eviction because why not?). When we found her, she was so skinny you could see her spine through her fur. Her collar, which was still around her neck, was hanging so loosely she could slide it over her head (you know, if she had the ability to do that). She was starving, covered in fleas and desperate for some sort of attention and affection. So we did what anyone would do.

We feed her. And treated her fleas. And play with her, give her treats and somewhere comfortable to sleep. It’s the best we can do. We’re also actively searching for a new home for her. But that search is going very, very poorly.

You see, this poor cat is an indoor cat and my husband is severely allergic to cats. So we can’t keep her once the weather gets cooler. She needs to be inside because honestly? We don’t think she’ll survive a winter outside. But just like her previous owner, no one wants her. No one’s come out and said it directly but I think it’s because she has no tail. I don’t think anyone wants a defective cat, regardless of how sweet her personality is. Which is just a damn shame.  Because anyone would be lucky to have this cat as a pet.

Anyway…

I’ve pretty much accepted the fact that this cat is indefinitely ours. We’ll have to think of something to do for the winter that does not involve moving her inside and plying my husband with Benadryl until he’s comatose and doesn’t realize there’s a cat in the house (this might not be a practical solution since he does, in fact, need to go to work). It’s also expensive. Then again, so is keeping a second cat, particularly one that’s indoors since there’s a whole new set of costs that come with it, and I’m not sure our budget can afford those right now.  Our budget is having a hard time just keeping up with the cost of two outdoor cats, given the extra food that we have to buy now (not to mention the flea and tick treatment). But I refuse to be an asshole like her previous owners and toss her to the streets (or worse, the SPCA) so I’m finding a way to make it work. Because that’s what I do.

So, I’ll make a plan, I’ll rework our budget, and I’ll accept the fact that now we are a two cat family. I’ll just try to avoid feeding them in my bathrobe. I don’t need a reputation.

 

 

Problem dog strikes again

by Jana 7 Comments

Remember when I wrote about my dog and his penchant for eating toys and how that affinity cost me close to $1000 and a trip to the emergency room at midnight the night before I had to leave for a trip to my parents’ house?

He doesn’t look like my problem child. But looks? Are deceiving.

Well guess what? Problem dog strikes again.

For the past few days, Dobie has just not been himself. He’s been lethargic, incessantly licking one of his paws, heavily panting even when lying on an air conditioning vent (yes, I know that sounds weird. Our vents are on the floor. Oh, and yes, a dog lying on a vent is weird, too), hasn’t been eating, can’t walk up and down the stairs (or jump on the couch or the bed), and had accidents in the house. None of this is normal for him.

At first I thought it might be his arthritis acting up or the fact that his fur is matted from swimming (oh, right. He swims in my in-laws’ pool. You remember them? The ones with the corn in the dishwasher?) and he was just uncomfortable. But that wasn’t it. Because even when he’s uncomfortable, he still eats (mainly because he’s a fat ass who eats everything that’s not nailed down and a few things that are). He didn’t turn down treats or peanut butter (the true test) but he didn’t eat his kibble for 2 ½ days. Then came the crowning achievement. He woke me up at 3 AM because he had to throw up (I think I’m the only person whose dog gives a warning that he’s going to barf. It’s his barf signal! I know. I’m hilarious).

When he throws up, something is really, really wrong.

As soon as I knew they would answer the phone, I called the vet’s office to make an appointment. Of course, the appointment interfered with his grooming appointment which I had to cancel anyway and now the poor thing is still uncomfortable and smelly. Wait…where was I going? Right. The vet. Anyway, they were able to fit us in mid-afternoon while Barkley, my other dog, was off at his grooming appointment. Which I was grateful for because I really wanted to find out what was wrong with this dog before it got any worse (after what happened to the dog of someone I’m related to but not allowed to mention on this site, I’m extremely paranoid anytime one of my dogs looks like he’s in pain). As a result, I was not going to complain about the awfulness of a 3:15 PM appointment.

So, after our playdate at the park, we went to the vet’s office. Again.

The vet’s office is always interesting. Besides the inevitable wait, I always love to watch the other people in the waiting room interact with their pets. I also love to watch how people interact with the other owners’ pets. Today was especially interesting. There was a really cute, sweet pit bull in the waiting room. This gentleman and his daughter walked in and they basically snatched their dog up and refused to put him (her?) down until the pit bull left. It was kind of appalling, actually. I got a little angry and wanted to say something but I had my daughter with me and I didn’t want to say anything I wouldn’t want her repeating so I kept my mouth shut.

Sorry, I lost my place again.

Right. The vet’s office for the appointment to diagnose my dog. After waiting over ½ hour, they finally took us into the exam room where I proceeded to inform the vet tech of Dobie’s myriad of problems. She looked kind of puzzled at the symptoms because this, of course, was the time Dobie decided to act like himself again (I believe he just didn’t want to be poked and prodded so he was lying to the doctor). Since I’m human and can talk, she took my word over his and then talked to the vet about his issues. The vet then examined him and decided that running some test would be a good idea (of course it is) and $218.50 later, I learned that my dog possibly has a urinary tract infection.

Yup. That’s the diagnosis. Possible UTI. Not actual UTI. Possible.

Glad I spent that kind of money for a possibility.

What my cat taught me about other people’s money

by Jana 4 Comments

My cat, Boots. She’s not a fan of pictures.

Once again, where I live is under an extreme heat advisory. Which is totally awesome.

I learned this when I was checking the weather with my daughter (she’s obsessed) and noticed the little red exclamation point next to my ZIP code. I clicked on it and it told me, among other things, that the most humane thing to do for outdoor pets is to bring them inside, into the air conditioning.

No shit.

But what if you have, like I do, an outdoor animal who absolutely refuses to come inside no matter how much coaxing and bribing you do? There’s not much, except try to accommodate the animal in every way possible. Provide shade, water, and something to cool her down (we use ice packs, but I’ve also been told that if you fill an ice cream container with water, freeze it and then put it outside, that works). That’s about it. Well that, and hoping the animal’s instincts will kick in and she’ll also find ways to help herself.

It sucks having an outdoor pet who you can’t help more than she will allow. Just like it sucks having people in your life who you can’t help with their finances, no matter how much you know they’re in distress. But if I’ve learned any lessons taking care of this cat that can apply to those people, it’s these:

  • Sometimes, they’re just more comfortable in the situation they’re used to. My cat was originally a stray. She spent the first two or so years of her life outside, so regardless of the fact that we allowed her inside, she refused to do it. Because it was new. Just like going from letting your finances run you to you running your finances is new. Getting control of your money is not easy. It takes tons of effort, organization, planning…the list goes on. For someone who’s not used to it, it’s just easier to keep plodding along in financial distress because it’s easier to stay there than working to change their station. There’s also the whole attitude of “well, this is just how it’s always been so this is just how it’ll always be”, which is virtually impossible to change. So you give them options and hope they realize that the uncomfortable option may actually turn out to be the better one in the long run.
  • New choices are scary. For a cat that’s never lived in a home, being confined to 4 walls and sleeping in a bed is frightening. Toys are strange. Using a litter box is freaky and bizarre. These are all choices that, upon seeing them for the first time, are overwhelming but eventually the animal will learn what to do (unless you’re my cat. Then you just snub them). Just like having choices with your money. As I learned through paying down my debt, when you start to have money that’s free and available and not designated for debt repayment, you get confused and overwhelmed. You don’t know how to handle having choices with your money. Occasionally, you might go on a spending binge or take a really expensive vacation. After awhile, though, you learn how to apply that money properly and secure your finances for the future.
  • It’s easier just to let them be. In the almost two years I’ve had my cat, I’ve learned that no matter how hard I try, she just wants to live outside. So, I’ve stopped forcing the issue. If that’s where she wants to be, then I let her. I provide for her the best I can, spend time with her when I can but other than that, I let her go about her business. It’s the same for people who are bad with money. I have a friend who is terrible with money. She complains and complains about how she never has enough and how she hates to work but she never does anything to improve her financial situation. I don’t even bother talking to her about it anymore because she doesn’t want help. She doesn’t want things to get better. She just wants to complain. So I let her. Because, just like trying to coax my cat inside, my efforts to help her are absolutely futile. Rather than banging my head against a wall and getting frustrated, I just sit back and let her complain and watch her make poor choice after poor choice. Because honestly? I’m convinced that’s what she really wants.

It’s difficult to sit by and watch people you love and care about suck with money. But, as I have to do with my cat, we have to let them make their own choices and live with the consequences. That doesn’t mean we have to stop supporting them or neglect them; it just means we have to recognize that not everyone wants our help. And when you want to help, that’s the most difficult part of the situation.

How do you handle people you want to help but refuse to accept that assistance?

 

I want, I want, I want!

by Jana 14 Comments

I desperately, more than anything, want a third dog. I know. It’s insane and foolish and a terrible idea. Yet I can’t let it go.

I peruse Petfinder almost daily. I had to actively stop myself from downloading the app onto my phone. The other night, our neighbor’s dog got loose and, seeing as how the family didn’t go looking for him, I contemplating telling them that if they weren’t going to care for him, I would gladly take him off their hands. But I couldn’t do that to their kids (or could I?)

My husband knows that I want to add another furry member to our family. He supports it…eventually. He entertains my delusions of puppy grandeur, and recently, even agreed to go meet a dog I found at a local shelter (the dog was adopted before we had a chance to get there. Good for the dog. Sad for us). But he knows, more than I do, that right now is not the greatest time to add a third dog to our family. Although timing-wise it’s perfect, financially it’s a horrible choice. Here’s why:

  • Adoption fees. I have no interest in purchasing a dog from a store or a breeder. I prefer to adopt one from a shelter or rescue organization. However, even that comes with upfront fees, and some of those fees are really expensive (particularly from some of our local rescues). While we might have a few hundred undesignated dollars, spending it on adopting a dog is probably not the most prudent use of our money. It’s better served going into savings or keeping around for another dog emergency.
  • Regular expenses. A third dog means more food, another crate, additional vet appointments, grooming, preventative meds and all the other monthly expenses that go along with responsibly adding a dog to our family. With money being a little tighter than usual due to my leave, we’re having to make cuts. Adding in more expenses every month means cutting back even farther and quite frankly, we’ve made pretty much every cut we can. 
  • We’re trying to move. Putting our house up for sale is a pretty daunting task. We’re just about done with all the repairs and cosmetic fixes and we even have our realtor lined up. And we really need to move. Bringing a new dog into the house means more chances for accidents and destruction of property like what happened to poor Crystal from Budgeting in the Fun Stuff. We cannot have that happen if we want to sell our house in the next year. Our wallets just can’t take having to spend that kind of money on home repairs. 
  • Our house is just not big enough. My house is not small but it certainly isn’t big enough to accommodate 3 dogs and 3 humans. Just having the 2 dogs is a stretch sometimes. Also, if we added a third dog, we’d have to fence our backyard. Right now, with the 2, it’s not a big deal to put them on their leashes and take them for a walk. Adding a third to that mix would bring a chaos that I’m not sure I could handle on my own (or my husband could handle on his own). 
We’ve thought about fostering like my friend Erin. Financially it’s a smarter choice but emotionally, I couldn’t do it. The thought of bringing a dog into my family, socializing him with my dogs (and cat), getting him (or her) used to us and then having to let him go is more than I can take. I have so much respect for people who are strong enough to do that. If I fostered a dog, he’d be mine. Case closed.
I know that one day (hopefully sooner than later), I’ll have another dog. Although it’s hard to remind myself that now is not the right time, I know that it’s not. I have to keep telling myself that this is the most practical, responsible, adult thing I can do for me and my family.
But you know what? Being a grown-up sucks sometimes.

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