Shortly after my husband died, my little Papi dog died. I knew he missed his Daddy, he was depressed, and although he loved me he loved Daddy more and wanted to be with him. I cried bitterly but Daddy came to get him and left me completely alone in my house.
I dealt with it for a while, then I decided I absolutely had to have another living being in the house with me. So I bought, sight unseen, a little girl Papillon from a website in Minnesota. I paid a lot of money for her, but I was in bad need of someone to love.
I went to the airport to pick her up, and she was so cute! She looked at me from her crate at the depot where she was dropped off, and I fell in love with her little black nose and huge ears decorated with black fringes and just the devilish look on her little face. I held her close and named her Cissy.
For some reason, though, I was unable to bond with her when I got her home. She pooed and peed all over the house, and did not seem to understand about going potty outside. She would go out and pull wildly on her leash, she spent not an iota of time peeing or pooing, her mind was just on getting off her leash.
In addition, she chewed the fringe off my rugs, she was able to pogo jump to the back of the toilet and get the toilet paper and run down the hall with it, and she made bed time a nightmare. I would put her in her crate and she would cry and whine all night long. In desperation, I put her in the bed with me where she would run around and around the perimeter of the bed – she didn’t seem to need sleep. But I sure did. Sleeping with her was like sleeping with a drunken gerbil – I couldn’t even doze with the frantic running. Not to mention her chewing up the bedding, and pooping on my pillow. I never met a dog who pooped as much as Cissy did.
One day she ran out of the house before I could catch her and took off like a dog out of Hell. I ran around the neighborhood like a crazed woman, looking for her , but after a while I was worn out and out of breath and decided what the heck, let her go. We were not working out. I had had her for eight months and she was still peeing and pooing on my carpets and chewing the fringes off my rugs and running around the bed at night or crying in her crate and just in general being a wild and crazy excuse for a dog, I couldn’t do it anymore. I had bought crates of toilet paper, gallons of dog pee and poo remover, and had had practically no sleep in eight months. Not only that, but that morning when I had come home from grocery shopping and found three poos and five pees on my carpets, I had actually picked her up and given her a couple slaps on her rear end. Me, who had never ever raised a hand to a dog in my life! I was secretly glad to be rid of her.
A neighbor brought her back to me after supper. She had been digging up and eating this lady’s tulip bulbs. I put Cissy in her crate and took the crate out to the garage and let her wail and moan. My house was on the market and I just couldn’t put up with it anymore. There was no way I was going to take her to the townhouse I had rented.
So I sold her for just a fraction of what I had paid for her. My last sight of her was of her jumping on the teenaged boy of the family that had bought her, and his arms flailing as he tried to fight her off.
I cried when their car went down the street, but not for Cissy. I cried because I was going to be alone again. But I didn’t cry for long, because I was hoping I would get enough money for my house to replace all my beautiful rugs that were ruined, to replace carpets, and to buy new pillows, bedding, and a mattress.
© 2012 Just Lynne - 5/3/12
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