Cydniey Buffers (cydniey) wrote,
Cydniey Buffers

once i can convince myself i can break this writer's block

chewy and i went for a walk today around noon. it was hot, but it was worth it. he went pottys and he went poopies. and he ran himself ragged. he was panting so hard when we got home. i took him straight into my bathroom and put him in the tub and stripped and took a cold shower with him. he was cooled down and not panting in no time. then he shook himself off all over my clean clothes. my fault for putting them on the floor. chewy's fur is so short, i don't dry him off, i let him shake himself off and rub himself against the carpet.

last night around 3:30 we played "arf". a noisy game the cats don't like. i get chewy to run around the house until he's tired and then when he lays down i come up on him, lower than him, growling and barking. until he growls and barks and eventually gets a second wind and runs around the house more. this wears him out for the night. he only barks at the cats, and rarely. and he only barks at the cats that aren't bothered by it, like bagira, who just looks at him like he has three heads. and when he plays arf.

when doc was at the adoption center looking for jack, the dog i originally wanted to adopt, that was adopted before i got there, was being returned for behavioural problems. we got lucky with chewy, it just shows he was meant to be with us, not that other dog. i said i wanted to find the right dog, and we did. i mean, we spent two hours with him waiting at the shelter and he was incredibly well behaved. he's good on a leash and follows directions. it took us a day to teach him "on your butt". "be cool" isn't working out well, because by the time we say it, we are usually losing patience with him, so he rolls over in a puppy foomp. so now we're working on "get up", which means multiple things. "up up up" is for treats. "get up up" is to get on his chair outside on the porch. and now "get up" which means "get up you pussy, stand up".

major is so my baby. he sleeps with me at night. if there isn't enough room on the bed, he sleeps on the body pillow next to it. he sleeps on the bed during the day and every couple of hours howls for me to come in and pet him and pay attention to him. and usually simon is in there for attention, too, so i pet two cats with one hand. major still meows most of the time he's awake. we've figured out he's saying "who's my bitch, mommy?". it still grosses me out to pet his BB, so i avoid his elbow altogether when i'm petting him. i just can't believe it's in there and it isn't hurting him. the fur is growing in on the back of his head, so i figure it was stress that was causing it.

doc is being really nice. not get-me-flowers-nice, but nice. make me coffee nice. get me weed nice. go through different channels to get weed for me. above and beyond a caregiver. he's getting enough sleep and not drinking as much. though he's still taking the sleeping pills. he didn't take any today and hopefully he will stay asleep until 10 or so. so he won't need to take any pills. we take too many pills. i've cut it back to my meds and that's it. i've cut out all pain reliever, and i'm fine without it. so long as i stretch. and i don't take my sleeper any more. i just sleep when i can. yesterday's trazodone was an exception. and i needed the sleep it gave me. dreamless, wakeless . . . peaceful.

i'm coming to terms with my new poetry not being punk. i try not to think of it as losing my edge, just growing up. at least i try to look at it that way. once i can convince myself i can break this writer's block.

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