Breakdown, it's all right...

So I just had another breakdown. Definitely not the first, what with all the fighting with Bill and my mother this week, but I think probably the worst. [And it's also gross, so if you don't want to read about poop then you should probably stop here, but this is my life so this is what you get for right now.]

I've been thinking that I can't handle walking the dog anymore. The problem isn't me and the dog and being outside -- it's the other people who are outside. Because Maeberry attracts so much attention, it's hard for me to keep her under control. The little girl on the corner two houses down must stand by the door and wait for us, because as soon as we walk by, she yells, "Hi! Maeberry!" I've started just saying "hi" back and not even stopping, because Mae gets out of control with her, pulling and jumping. Then everybody else we pass has to stop and pet her, or say she's beautiful, or ask what kind of dog she is. I swear, I've answered these questions for the same people over and over again, and we only live in a small development. My main concern is that either she's going to pull me and I'm going to fall, or that I'm going to let go of the leash and she's going to run away. Either way, I can't handle the result.

Today I got home from work around 4 p.m. and she hadn't peed on the floor again (like she did for no reason yesterday and the day before). She was hanging out with me upstairs and wasn't being too annoying (with the exception of her pulling tissues from the bathroom garbage). I started thinking that maybe it was going to be a good afternoon.

I also wanted to hold her off from eating for awhile because I think she's getting too used to eating at 6 p.m. on the dot, and Bill hasn't been getting home by then and, like I said, I can't walk her anymore, and she expects her walk right after she eats. So I was hoping to postpone her for a little while.

But then she started barking. She obviously had to go outside, but it was before dinner, so I thought it would be a nice, easy stroll and a poop and then I'd check the mail. I made her wait for a few minutes, and then we walked outside and she dragged me right to the grass, which she only does if she really has to go. She sniffed her way down to the corner (right in front of the little girl's house) and had a horrible poop.

I want to pause here and mention that Maeberry has a horrible history with her stomach, in case you haven't heard the horror stories. She has colitis (read: bloody diarrhea), which is only fixed by feeding her ridiculously expensive food; anal gland issues, so her anal glands need to be "expressed" every so often (which I think brought on this current bout of messiness); GERD -- yes, just like the GERD that Bill has; and, I think, psychological issues that make her think it's OK to eat grass so that she can throw up when she's not getting enough attention. She's a mess.

Back to today. So she had this horrible poop right in front of the little girl, and I pushed her off the grass area into the street while I was cleaning it up so she didn't step in it, but then she proceeded to start pooping again in the street. In three places, because I tried pulling her back onto the grass and it kept falling out of her. Back on the grass area, she pooped another two times. All messy, smelly and completely disgusting. As I was trying to clean it up (which, how do you pick up liquid, really?), the little girl was talking to me the whole time about how Mae doesn't listen to me (yeah, I know, thanks), and then this old, shirtless man walked over and tried to talk to me about her for a good five minutes while I was standing there, obviously pregnant and struggling to hold her leash and an enormous open bag of poop. And as I was standing there, struggling to pick up poop and hold Mae and get this weird, shirtless man to stop talking to me (wearing my nice new Gap Maternity dress for the relaxing date night I am supposed to be having tonight with my husband, by the way), a woman drove around the corner (probably running over the poop in the street) and stuck her head out the window and yelled, "What kind of dog is that? Oh she's beautiful." As if I didn't have enough going on right then.

So I finally got the man to walk away, avoided the questions from the little girl about why Mae pooped in the street ("because she just doesn't feel well right now," so shut up, OKAAYY?!), and got Mae to stop dragging her butt on the ground long enough to drag her back to the house, where I wiped her butt (with dry doggie butt wipes because no one knows how to close the container, and then a whole roll of paper towels and doggie shampoo) for 15 minutes because I couldn't find her butthole under all that hair, and it was disgusting and smelled and I started crying hysterically. I went upstairs and dragged her crate down and threw her in it, walked back down to the corner to pour water on the poop in the street, and started cleaning the foyer floor where she had been sitting. I finally called Bill to figure out when he was going to be home and he came home and I was hysterical.

To top it all off, Bill just made her dinner and added rice (to "bind" her), which she proceeded to throw up (entirely, all over the floor) while I've been sitting here writing this blog.

Now I have to go have a nice, relaxing dinner with my husband. Do I seem relaxed? Will I ever be relaxed again? I feel like I could start crying right now and not stop for the rest of my life. I suppose this is what I get for not having been emotional for the past eight months -- eight months of emotion in one week. Thanks, Baby Pavlou.