Adventures on the High Sea

And by "high sea" I of course mean "snow-covered Midwestern prairie."

*sound of disgust*

I hate the Midwest. I lived in Omaha for a year and that was more than enough for me. It's too hot in the summer, too cold in the winter, and too windy all year round. It's like hell without the impish demon minions.

I endured a 10-hour drive (I made it in 9 hours because I might have been exceeding the speed limit a little bit) to meet my ex-hubby Chris and his girlfriend in North Platte, Nebraska.

Yes, it's just as podunk as you imagine.

It was not a social call. While delightful people both, our meeting wasn't just for funsies. Constant Readers may recall prior posts about my dog Sophie's poopy problems. In a nutshell, she gets diarrhea very easily. I used to think that it was triggered by unfamiliar foodstuffs, but after making many diet changes, taking away all extraneous treats and ingestible items (including her doggy toothpaste), and feeding her medications, she would still get diarrhea. It was a fun cycle. Three or four days of solid doodoo, three or four days of squishy poops, and so on and so forth.

Last summer, I took Sophie to the vet regarding her diarrhea. I was given new food, antibiotics, and instructions to de-stress the dog's life as much as possible. The antibiotics and new food did the trick, and she was (mostly) diarrhea free for months.

And then Camille happened.

After Camille was born, Sophie's diarrhea came back with a vengeance. This is when the 3-4 day cycle began. Every 2 hours or so, Sophie would have to be taken outside to poop. All day. All night. So I'd be up feeding the baby, and then get up and take Sophie out to poop. I basically wouldn't get any sleep. But it was OK. I didn't have anything pressing to do during the day, so I could catch catnaps while Jake was at work or school. No biggie.

I systematically phased out all of Sophie's edibles with the exception of her food (which is medicated sensitive stomach food and probably about the mildest thing I could feed her). I had hopes to find the offending food item that was giving her diarrhea. After I took away all her treats and her toothpaste and she still had diarrhea, I started to wonder if maybe it wasn't a food issue.

After much pondering, I determined that Sophie was stressed. She's always had sensitive feelings. When she would be naughty as a puppy, if we yelled at her as punishment, she would sulk and mope so much it was like we told her that Christmas was cancelled. She's always been very eager to please and will put herself in the corner if she believes she's done something wrong.

Touchy-feely.

I think she was super stressed about Camille. Sophie was always an only child (with the exception of Hannibal the kitteh but she loved him soooooo much) so she was used to getting all the attention. When Camille was born, Sophie didn't get all the attention anymore.

Sophie was never aggressive toward Camille in any way. She showed nothing but love and a desire to lick. She is, after all, a nanny dog.

If you're a pit bull hater, get off my blog and go punch yourself in the groin.

Prolonged stress is bad for people and dogs both (probably cats, too), and I didn't want her to sustain damage from long-term exposure to elevated stress levels. Also, I was tired of walking her around in the middle of the freezing night and/or scraping poop and vomit up off the carpet.

So I called Chris and asked if he was willing to take her. He told me when we separated that if I ever found myself in a situation where I couldn't keep Sophie, to please let him take her rather than giving her to strangers (I'd have to be dead before Sophie would find herself at the animal shelter). He said of course he could take her, and we arranged to meet at the midway point between our residences.

North Platte, Nebraska. Weak.

We met, we ate Mexican food, I showcased Sophie's new tricks since Chris had last seen her (roll over, sit pretty, and high five), and we went to bed around 11 just as it started snowing. The next morning we had breakfast together and then went our separate ways.

I only cried a little.

OK, that was a lie.

When I got home today, I walked in the apartment and was struck by her absence. There are no dog toys strewn about. There are no dog blankets by the window where she used to sit and people-watch. Her house (crate) is gone, and the empty spot is about as noticeable as a hole punched through the wall.

I don't have to get up tonight to take her for poop walks. I don't have to get up and take her to pee in the morning. I don't have to worry that she's has an accident on the floor. But I also don't have her here to hug (even though you can tell she doesn't like being hugged, but she deals with it), or pet, and Jake has no one to fart on.

I guess I'll started petting Jake. He's not allowed to start farting on me.

I love you, Sophie. I miss you.