Hi everybody. Your Dean of Fuckery, Law Professor, Dr. of Doctoring, DVM, Sarcasm Expert and Queen of everything lives. I’m going to break my own rule just for tonight because I don’t want you all thinking I just said fuck it, I have better things to do then this. THIS is what I do. Without it, I am pretty much nothing. That being said, I have basically been in bed with the covers pulled up over my head since Bruno
died was murdered, it just took the fucker 7 years to do it. I battle depression on top of PTSD, Agoraphobia, battered spouse syndrome et el. Depression I can deal with. I can recognize it, write till I make myself laugh and be done with it. Usually. Bruno’s death rocked my world like nothing has in a very long time. The last time the earth was moved out from under my feet this way was the day I could no longer deny that if I stayed I was going to end up just as dead as Bruno eventually did.
I thought I was okay. I really did. I cursed the sky, I cursed my ex, I started figuring out how I was going to keep the last promise I made my dog, and then I fucking lost it. I had what I can only describe as a slight breakdown. That I won’t get into the meat of, because I am just guessing since a nervous breakdown is something I have never had. The reasons for it I also will not share on here. There are a couple of people that I love, respect and trust that know because they asked me, and of course my mama cuz she is my mama, but it isn’t for the whole worlds consumption.
I bobbed like a waterlogged cork for a week, almost completely submerged, with just enough buoyancy to come up for air once in a while. I dragged my ass out of bed to look after my child and then right back to bed I went. 7 days, 10 days, and finally my child who I sometimes think is 35 told me to get my feeling sorry for myself ass moving and play with my puppies. And I did. And I discovered that while they are not Bruno, not by a longshot, there is enough Bruno in them that they could be what Bruno was never allowed to be. And the black dog faded into the fog over the next couple of days.
We were sans internet for a few days, but that has been sorted. And here I am.
My puppies, who I have renamed Starsky and Hutch because the other names sounded too pretentious for my sons liking, are doing wonderfully well. I have been trying to teach them all manner of things. Just to prove a point, because I never, EVER forget being maligned by anybody, the first thing I did was teach them to hold you down by your neck. My son has been my assistant. He lays on the floor and I have taught Hutch to lay his head across my child’s neck in order to receive a treat. It is not even a difficult trick, but “dogs, don’t do that” or so I have been told. I taught another dog that once a loooong time ago. They come to their names, they walk on and off leash and they sit, lay down and stay. They are 9 weeks old this week. I have been training my own dogs since I was 14, so I know what dogs can and can’t do. Starsky learned how to climb a vertical ladder all by himself. I ran into the garage due to the howling that assured me that somebody was in all kinds of trouble and he was on the third last rung on the ladder. He wasn’t so good at reverse however.
So, now that I am fairly confident I am fully out of the darkness the story will continue tomorrow with a couple of BIG surprises. Hope you have been taking notes.
Love to you all.
RBMD peacing the fuck out.