Dear Sam,

I'm so very happy that you're recovering well from all of your battle wounds.  That one hole still looks pretty gross, but at least now it's down to the size of a dime instead of a quarter.  It does make me wretch a little when I have to clean it, but it's getting better every day.  I can't believe it's taken me this long to realize that it's best for me to eat after I do your daily maintenance rather than before.  But we've settled into a routine with that and it won't go on forever so it's all good.

I would, however, like to talk to you about taking advantage of your recent trauma and all that goes with it.  I completely understand your reluctance to come back into the house; the garage has always been your safe place and it has been a great place for you to recover quietly as well as a way to keep you from leaking wound juice all over everywhere inside.  But now that your recovery is well established and you're back in the house, there are a few things we should discuss.

I put an old, really ugly sheet (that the prior owners left behind, 1984 keeps calling to ask for it back), on the couch for you to lay on since the couch now seems to be your safe place.  When I want to sit on the couch, I fold the sheet across "your" half of the couch so that I don't sit on anything gross.  But it seems that everytime I get up, you feel the need to move over and sit in my spot.  Most of the time you actually stretch out so that the entire couch becomes "yours".  Not only does this mean that the couch isn't protected from your occasional seeping, but it's rather rude.  When I come back, I have nowhere to sit and you tend to refuse to move regardless of how stern I get.  I can't believe I actually had to resort to using a leash today to haul you down to your end of the couch.  But what really got to me was when you told me there was other furniture I could sit on.  Seriously?  You're pushing it more than a little with that attitude.  You need to remember that it's a little chilly in the garage and you're rather bald in that large area that was shaved so you're not quite as weatherproof as you used to be. I'd hate to have to banish you back out there when you've only recently come back inside. 

We also need to discuss your continued refusal to eat with the rest of the family.  I can't believe I let you talk me into serving you your meals on the couch.  When I offered to feed you in the living room so that you felt safe enough to eat, I never intended to let you eat on the couch.  I only relented so that you'd stop starving yourself.  I thought it would be at most a couple times and then you'd go back to having your bowl on the floor like every other dog in the house does.  But no, now you seem to think that your meals should always be within easy reach and that you're no longer required to get up to eat.  I blame myself, I do, but it's going to stop. Starting with dinner tonight, I will no longer put your bowl up where you are, you'll have to get down if you want to eat.  I'll continue to make sure that Steve doesn't bully you and eat all of your food in addition to his, but you're going to have to work things out with the Weiners on your own.  I know all of you think they're terrifying, but take a good look and you'll see that Wesson is about as big as one of your feet and Smith doesn't stand much taller than your ankle.  I'm pretty sure you could take both of them, probably at the same time if you'd screw your courage up.

That's all that I feel the need to address at this time.  As you requested, I'm going to the store to buy more Velveeta since that's the only acceptable substance to hide your meds in.  I have no idea why Montery Jack or Colby aren't good enough for you.  You've turned into a reverse cheese snob, I'd expect Steve to prefer Velveeta, but you have more class than that.

xxoo,

Mildly miffed Alpha

Dear Steve,

As you may have noticed, I spent the morning cleaning the house since I didn't have to go to work.  It seemed like a good day to move the furniture away from the walls and hunt down all of the massive dust rabbits. In the course of doing that, I found a few balls that you forgot about.  I've put those away for now, I'll bring them out at a later date when you've lost all of the other balls as you're inclined to do. I'm always amazed when you lose a ball while we're playing.  Dogs have an extraordinary sense of smell, I would think that would enable you to find a ball even in the dark, but it doesn't seem to.  I've seen you run a search pattern through the yard and go right past the ball several times without finding it. Sometimes I even have to go and retrieve the ball for you.  I think it would save you some disapointment if you edit your job search list and take off any of the service dog positions that involve using your nose; that includes drug detection, cancer detection, and seizure alert. It goes without saying that search and rescue dog is not an option.  I think that letting you audition as a seeing eye dog would also be ill advised.  I really don't even want to think just how badly that last one would turn out for all involved.

While I was cleaning, I also found an extensive collection of plastic bits that had obviously been chewed.  Since none of the other dogs have a taste for plastic, I have to assume these are yours.  Although almost everything is in pieces, I can still identify a few items.  The black bits used to be a Gene Simmons Christmas ornament.  It was new this year and I liked it a lot.  It was part of the Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll theme that the kids used when they shopped for me.  I wondered what had happened to it, and now I know.  Poor Gene lost his head and both hands to your plastic addiction. I was happy to finally find the really nice bath and body stuff that I got from one of my friends at work.  Not so happy when I saw what condition it was in.  I never even had a chance to use these things!  I did however enjoy the scent when I sat down to drink my morning coffee even though I had no idea until I moved the couch where it was coming from. I should have realized what happened the day I came home from work and you smelled so lovely. 

The one thing that all of these things have in common is that they're made out of plastic.  You have a problem Steve, a real problem. And we're going to have to do something about it.  I'm looking into 12 step programs, but I'm not finding any that target plastic chewing.  I have a call into Narcanon, maybe they'll be willing to at least let me attend meetings so that I can learn how to cope with your problem.

We're going to beat this thing Steve, it will take some hard work on your part and an extreme amount of patience on my part, but I have faith we can get through this.  The first step is to admit you have a problem.  It would be a good idea to start practicing for your first meeting: Hi, my name is Steve and I can't stop chewing plastic.....

xoxo,

Hopeful Alpha

Me: Steve, could you come into my office please.

.........

Me: Steve. STEVE.

Steve: I'm just looking for my ball, I figured I should bring it with me.

Me: You don't need the ball, I just want to talk to you.  I found your name tag on the floor.  It looks like it was chewed off of your collar.  What happened?

Steve:  Wesson did it for me.  Smith said I needed to take it off for the new job he found for me. Wesson tried to get my collar off too, but he couldn't get the clasp undone.

Me: Smith found you a job?  Doing what? And why should you take your tag and collar off to go to work?

Steve: I'm supposed to patrol up and down the street and yell at all the cars and make sure no one comes near the house.  I'm also supposed to try to bite their tires.  Smith said once I get our road cleared then I'm supposed to go out to the highway and make sure everything is ok there too. Smith said I have to go back and forth across the highway to make sure there aren't any bad guys on either side.

Me: and you're not supposed to have a collar or tags while you're doing this?

Steve: Smith says that only special dogs get to do the work and no one is supposed to know who they are or where they belong; just like superheros!  

Me: I see.  I thought you were embarrassed about the scars on your face.  You said you didn't want to meet any new people looking like you do.  

Steve: Smith says the scars are cool and make me look tough. He says they make me look like a real pitbull and if I wear my ears folded back I'll look like the fighting pits and people will take me more seriously out there. It's hard to convince people you're fierce when your name tag is shaped like a heart and your collar says "peace, love, rescue" with flowers on it. 

Me: oh firchrissakes.  That is not a good look!  This is not a good thing!  This is not a real job!  You're not allowed to play in traffic!  I've told you before, you can't believe half of what Smith says.  Go find your ball and we'll go outside in a minute. We'll talk later about finding a job for you.

Steve:  yeeeesssss! I am so there!

Me: Smith, come in here.  I know you've been listening outside the door.

Smith: *prancing in, head cocked to the side adorably*  yes?  Is there something I can do for you oh Most Supreme One?

Me: nice touch, but I'm not buying it.  You're to stop trying to get Steve out of the house, you're to stop trying to get him either picked up by dog control or killed on the road. And you're going to stop trying to draw Wesson into helping you with your evil plans. If you continue with all of this, I won't let you sleep in the bed with me anymore.

Smith: that seems rather severe, but your wish is my command, as always oh Sun of my Solar System.

Me: *heavy sigh and rolling eyes* 

Wesson: I told you it was a bad idea.  Don't look so sad, I'll clean your ear.

Me: one more thing Smith; Steve has a microchip, anyone can find out where he belongs even if you take his collar and tag off.

Smith: damn! Wesson, I think I'm going to need both ears cleaned to make me feel better.

Dear Sam,

I'm so happy that you seem to be feeling a little better.  I'm sure your improvement is mostly due to the antibiotics but I think the pain killers are playing a significant part as well.  It's a relief that you don't seem to mind staying in the garage and that the rest of the household is good about leaving you alone when you go outside.  I am a little concerned about the dosage on your pain killers. I noticed you weaving and giggling to yourself as well as singing off key when you were walking outside this morning. I assume that's due to the drugs since you're usually a pretty good singer.  But you seem comfortable and that's really what matters.  How could you not be comfortable? You're stoned to the gills.

They have to be pretty good drugs because I had to have your prescription filled at a human pharmacy; they don't stock these at the vet clinic.  Imagine how fun it was to explain to the pharmacist that the drugs were for a dog and that, generally speaking, dogs don't have a last name.  In order to get the prescription into Safeway's pharmacy computer system, you're now Sam Harlan and your birthday is the same as mine.  They had to use my birthday because flags are raised if class 2 narcotics are dispensed to someone who is only 7 years old even if that 7 year old weighs over 100lbs. It's reassuring that the pharmacist was diligent enough to actually do the research on the proper dosage for animals just to make sure she wasn't sending me home with a bottle full of assisted suicide supplies.  

I do wish it was a little easier to get your pills into you.  It's like trying to medicate a huge cat. Except that no cat is big enough to knock me off my feet during the process.  I've tried all of the usual tricks: using the pill pockets that are designed for medicating pets and have the clever pocket to hold the drugs.  These only seem to be tempting when they don't have pills in them.  I know you love pill pockets because you ate a whole bag of them out of the pantry once. Yet you  refuse to touch them when they have pills in them.  I've tried hiding the pills in hamburger, also not successful.  How can a dog your size be so delicate and manage to get all of the hamburger off of the pills and leave them neatly next to your dish?  MInd boggling.  I have some Velveeta left over from the holiday cheese sauce fest that I'm going to try next. I'll try anything to avoid putting my hand halfway down your throat again. You hate it, and I'm not fond of the process either.  I think the struggle is beginning to erode our relationship.  

I have to go get some beef stock started since I'm supposed to give you lots of fluids and you seem more inclined to drink lots of water if it's flavored.  Remember that this is only for the duration of your convalescence, we don't keep the dog evquivalent of Perrier in this house. 

xxoo,

Relieved Alpha

ps: to answer your question, no one rents kitten companions; you can't have one to keep you complany in the garage.  Kittens and cats are only brought into a household on a permanent basis and I'm not at all convinced a cat is a good idea right now. Would you trust Steve with a kitty?  That much worry would push my stress level back up and I only just had my eyelashes replaced.  I'd like to keep this set.

To: All of you clowns

From: Not So Happy Alpha

Subject: our next meeting

I realize that we just had a meeting last evening, but I've scheduled another one for today.  Please cancel any weekend activities you may have planned and clear your schedules; this meeting is mandatory and will cover crucial topics.

Take a close look at the photo I have attached to this memo.  Those are not the amputated limbs of spiders.  Those are eyelash extensions.  Up until last night, they were attached to my own eyelashes.  I did not realize just how high my stress level had become until I realized I had manually removed said extensions while I was reading a book last night.  I will be seeing my esthetician today and I hope she can repair the damage I've done to myself. In case you're wondering, extensions like these are attached to one's own lashes with very strong glue.  This is not a problem when the lash falls out on it's own. It's kind of like when you shed your coats, only on a MUCH smaller scale and doesn't clog the vacuum.  However, if one pulls the extensions off,  then they take the natural lash with them when they go.  I currently have virtually bald eyelids.  I blame all of you.

Here are a few things I'd like you to discuss amongst yourselves in preparation for the upcoming meeting:

  What can we do to decrease my stress level?  

  How can we keep our happy home?

  Where can we make budget cuts so that I can both pay for Sam's hospital care and restore my former good looks?

  And finally, we'll be discussing politness, ie: staring at people or other dogs when they look odd.

I'm working on transcribing the notes from last night's meeting, I'll distribute the transcription at tonight's meeting.