The Story of BB the Great Dane

BB had a ball Sunday, once we got him in the car. He acted like he was going to his own execution! Silly boy. The dig in and sit like a mule thing he does finally got him picked up and put in the car. When he realized we were out for fun, he got in and out all by himself just fine. Puppy store!! Let me out! Where’s the bones?

Mom has gradually begun the battle for dominance with him, and I’m hoping it continues. Perhaps after my brother is gone, she’ll find it easier, and find more ways to passively assert her leadership. He’s stubborn as the mule he sits down like, so it will take a concerted and consistent effort. She can do it, if she wants to.

Beebs had to wait in the car until we were done with breakfast at the café, but he got to go to the puppy store! Yay! He bumped, bounced, wiggled, and did his best to be silly. He picked out a new toy, the strangest looking flamingo you ever saw: long legs for tugging, bugged out eyes, scrawny neck to wring… perfect! Even comes with a squeaker. That and a turn rooting through the chews made a satisfying outing.

Since he was hurting later that afternoon, Mom gave him one of the muscle relaxants the vet recommended, and it totally blasted him for a solid eight hours. He was wobbly as his new flamingo baby trying to eat supper! Ooops. Half or quarter dose next time…His wiggles slowed down, and his bump was a lean to stay on his feet, poor kiddo. Being a natural born goof, he was still his funny self, complaining, and trying to play even while the room wouldn’t hold still.

Monday he woke up shedding wonky let-me-run energy all over the place, then he wouldn’t get in the car. He wouldn’t even get close to it. Uhg. Tuesday his lack of exercise made him wonkier, and Mom was in a foul mood paying bills. I avoided her, but BB couldn’t poor fella.

I didn’t take him out running for Mom when she asked either. My day was full, and I’d be lucky if I could get everything done. BB’s outside time is an opportunity for them to have some fun together. What she does with the opportunity isn’t up to me, but I won’t take away the chance.

I just hope and pray she starts learning how to change and manage her own moods. It’ll be a rough transition, getting there from here. I feel so sorry for her, for her disillusionment with her son. She’s not given to optimism, making it all more agonizing. But if I’ve learned anything from the past 6 years of debilitating illness, it’s that bad moods are a choice. It takes just as much energy to be miserable as it does deciding to look for something to be happy about.

Contrary to the saying, little stuff matters! There’s a lot of joy to be found in the little things; the undiluted delight puppies have when they play, the way a room feels when it’s been cleaned, the taste of a favorite meal, laughter shared with friends, a soft cuddle with a sleepy pup… the little stuff adds up faster than the big uglies.

It wouldn’t be right for me to expect Mom and pups to tiptoe around my crankiness, and change their plans to suit me at the drop of a swinging mood. It isn’t right for her to do to me, as hard as it will be for her to stop. If she doesn’t enjoy being outside with BB, that’s a choice she makes every time she goes out the door. He’s funnier than a rubber crutch, so the problem is in her attitude.

Attitudes are durable beasts, like dandelions in a flowerbed: the longer they stay there, the deeper they grow, tangling up and starving the plants you want to have there. It’s nearly impossible to get the entire root out so the weed doesn’t grow back, too. Weeding is not an easy job, and weeding your own overgrown spirit is even harder.