Help. And I really do mean it.
I’m exhausted. Rocky, our Golden Retriever dog, is terrified of thunderstorms. Not just the normal variety of scared. It is just beyond…
Rocky pants and drools. Then whines and cries. And trots around the house, his nails clip clopping on the wood floors. What is he looking for? Me.
When he locates me, he hides underneath or behind me. He army crawls his 85 pound body under my pillow—then carries on with the heavy panting and drooling. He keeps army crawling closer, until he about knocks me off of my king size bed. I push him back to the middle and we start again. There is NO sleeping during a storm. At least not for me. He is on me like flies on shit until the storm passes.
“Close the bedroom door,” Boy is she dumb, you are thinking.
If I do this, he takes his routine on the road—and begins tormenting the kids.
“Shut ALL of the doors…like, duh!”
Tried it. He rams his body into my door and will not stop. I am not concerned for his head and/or mental capacity, as there isn’t much hope for that. I can’t have a damaged door.
While on vacation a couple of weeks ago, I was desperate and slipped Rocky a Benadryl. Yes—I drugged him. He spent the night tossed across my aunts’ couch, during an awful storm. We poked him a few times to make sure he was still with the land of the living, but we all slept like babies. And so did he. We all felt a little bad. But not too bad.
Last night, I tossed a Benadryl into the back of his throat—but I swear he spit it out. Because I waited and waited—for nothing. And I do recall him struggling with it and that there might have been some chewing, or something…
The dog is 7 years old. I have lost all hope that he will mature and outgrow his fears. Now, I’m just waiting for deaf and senile to hit. One of us.
Thank goodness the weather calmed down at 3am last night. Too bad the alarms rang at 6am. At 40 years old, I cannot function on 3 hours of sleep. Please forgive me, if this post is filled with grammatical errors, or makes zero sense–I am nearly incoherent…He of course, has been sound asleep since early this morning.
I did get caught up on my television in the middle of the night. Watched The Millionaire Matchmaker, which would be great if I LIKED The Millionaire Matchmaker. Nothing against it, but it only reminds me that I am now 40 and divorced. Watching others ‘date’ gives me the hives. It is like watching those ‘nanny’ shows with the awful, screaming, misbehaving children—just after you’ve put your kids to bed and finally have peace and quiet.
Anybody watched the weather forecast for the next several days? Take a look…
And then forward some ideas for dealing with Rocky. Otherwise, I am going to be severely sleep deprived.
And no, I do not have a gun. (And couldn’t do that to my loyal friend, anyway.)
But I am open to less drastic ideas…