Member-only story
I’ll Take Your Shit Show and Raise You $100
A true story about a lost Pomeranian and Dementia.
My husband woke me up this morning to tell me that our Pomeranian got away from him before he had his harness on, and ran off down the street.
My brain went into “find my baby” mode. It was 48°F outside. I didn’t stop to grab my coat. I was wearing flip flops on my feet. Before I got in the car, I yelled Bear’s name as loud as I could. Then I had to wait for my husband to get in the car. It’s a process, and I amazingly stayed calm.
I could hardly breathe as I drove down the road. I was focused on looking for a little ten pound ball of gray fluff. I saw my dog on the next street. I hope he stopped because he heard my voice. Dunno. He’s not saying. But when I stopped the car, opened the door, and calmly called his name, he ran up to me, tail wagging and cold.
I scooped him up, sat in the car, and held him while he nuzzled his nose into my neck. I held him close until we both stopped shaking. Then, I burst into tears because it hit me that life turns into a shit show in a moment’s notice, always without warning.
Dementia, I hate you. I hate how you ruined my family. You started with my Dad, moved on to my Mom, and now you found my husband. I hate how you’re stealing the emotions that my husband used to be able to show. Maybe he still feels them, but if he does, nobody can tell.
You make me feel powerless and useless because I can’t predict what shit show you’re going to start next. All I can do is pull myself together and wait for the next “adventure.”
FML
