life, the universe, and donna

I get the feeling that the above subject is how Justice feels a good deal of the time.

So, we all know this, I have a dog with a crazy amount of anxiety. This expresses itself in leash reactivity, mostly toward dogs, and taking “normal moments that are a bit anxiety-ridden” and turning them into huge scary productions.

Case in point: The vet. The vet is a scary place for ANY dog. It’s full of other scared dog smells, weird smells, strange people… you get poked and prodded by a stranger, things get stuck up your butt, you can often hear other dogs crying, whimpering, barking, they occasionally put needles in you…

Now take a dog who goes to pieces when there’s a piece of trash in the street where there SHOULD BE NO TRASH, MUM WHAT IS THAT THERE WAS NO TRASH THERE THIS MORNING WHY IS THAT THERE IS IT GOING TO EAT ME? …and you have a recipe for disaster.

I love my dog. And 90% of the time, she’s fantastic. She’s great indoors, albeit a bit of an alert-barker. She’s generally good off-leash with dogs her size or bigger (although lately a bit iffy with smaller dogs), FABULOUS with puppies, playful, energetic, funny, ridiculously smart, eager to please, lovable, cuddly, sweet… and honestly just an absolute joy to have around. I wouldn’t trade her for the world.

But oh god, the anxiety. Half the time I want to sell her to the gypsies, the other half I want to just sit down and cry because she’s so. freaking. scared. of. everything.

She makes incredible leaps & bounds all the time — her focus is improving, her rally classes are going great — heck, before the vet came into the office, we went through half a dozen of the more “difficult” rally commands, and she was perfect: attentive, focused, high energy, and grinning like a fool.

And then the vet came in. And jesus christ on toast. I’ve never seen her so scared. She was hiding behind the chair, ran away frightened every time the vet made eye contact (and Justice has a minor eye infection, so … y’know, looking at the eye? A good thing.) She was WAY more skittish, terrified, obstinate, and just plain anxious than I’ve seen her in a long time. Poor kid. The vet was great, trying not to startle her, using a low soothing voice, when she had to touch her, being super gentle and letting Justice come to her… yeah, no dice, dog was off the scale anxiety-wise. She’d come over to me every few minutes and sit for a treat, then go back to stress sniffing and hiding.

I go to Vancouver Animal Wellness, because I’m a LITTLE touchy feely with my preferred medical care for Justice. For example, we don’t vaccinate yearly, we get titre testing every 1-2 years instead. I don’t like to jump straight to pills as the first answer, and I’m not adverse to trying less invasive methods first. I really, really like Vancouver Animal Wellness for this — I feel like meds are a last resort, but one that we’ll take if it’s necessary.

When it comes down to it, if meds are what is needed, meds are what I’ll go for.

Even moreso than the stigma against humans using anti-depressants is pets on anti-depressants. What, your dog won’t stop barking long enough for you to get your latte? Drug ‘em to the gills, right?

Yeah, well. I’ve put a LOT of work into Justice. And anyone who’s known her for a few years tends to tell me how amazed they are at how far she’s come. Which is good, because often all I see are her issues. And I love her to pieces — I don’t see this as HER failing, I see this as MY failing. It’s my job to help her cope, right? And if she’s not coping… then this is on me.

Annoyingly it seems that most people agree, when I get the stinkeye for having the fearful/reactive dog. I hide behind the “She’s a rescue” label, but I still feel incredible guilt that with all the hard work I’ve put into her so far… it still hasn’t been enough. It can’t be enough, because if it was enough, she wouldn’t panic at the sight of other dogs. It may never be enough. I dunno. And I fully accept that… when you have a reactive dog, you ALWAYS have a reactive dog. I just want her to learn better coping skills and stop being so damn wigged out all the time.

Seriously, how much fun can it be that every time you go outside into the big bad world, you’re afraid of EVERYTHING? Good god, I have an agoraphobic dog. Well, not really — she can relax when she’s outside, she loves to roll in the grass, run around, sniff everything, chase balls & frisbees, and so on. But there are just so many little things that can get her to go from happy excited dog to “WHAT IN THE FUCKITY FUCK IS THAT?” … I don’t like seeing my dog like that!

So today we got a prescription for clomicalm. And of course, I feel terrible about it. There’s the sensible part of me that is reminding myself of how much anti-depressants helped me, and how I DO NOT JUDGE other people for going on anti-depressants, or even for putting their pets on meds. That’s a personal choice, and it’s none of my business. Are they over prescribed? Probably, but who cares? That’s not my call.

But this one IS my call, and … admittedly, I feel like I failed. It’s supreme stupidness, because I have a dog who is SO SCARED she makes herself (and everyone around her) miserable at times. What kind of selfish fuck would I be to refuse to give my sweet puppy something that has a VERY good chance of helping her (especially when combined with the training we’re already doing) NOT be so bloody scared all the time?

I love my dog with all my heart. I want to do what’s best for her. There’s no doubt in my mind that this is what’s best for her.

But it still kind of sucks.

And she just let out the most horrifying fart in the world, and I can’t stop laughing at her. THIS IS A SERIOUS MOMENT, DOG. YOUR BUTT TRUMPET IS NOT TAKING INTO ACCOUNT THE SEVERITY OF THE SITUATION.