Have you met my dogs?
They, plus the husband and I, complete our dysfunctional little family. Their names are Conney and Obi. Obi (Named after the Star Wars character by my sci-fi obsessed husband) is a three-year old (ish) dachshund mix. He’s my baby but loves Robby much more than me. Even though I brought him home. Psh. Conney is a seven-year old (ish) Australian Cattle Dog mix. She was around long before my time. In fact, I met her at a party the same night I met Robby. (He’s one of those dog-owners.) Conney and I both hated each other when we first met. She wasn’t used to sharing Robby and was a jealous bitch. (Literally.) I didn’t like that she got to sleep in the middle of the bed. So fine, maybe I was a little jealous at first too. But over the years and once she realized I wasn’t going anywhere, we have developed a mutual love/hate relationship that continues to grow in love and lessen in hate. We’re good friends now. (I frequently tell her, “Conney, we are good friends.”, in case she doesn’t realize.) She gets really excited and tucks her ears in and gives me high-fives when I come home. I comfort her when she’s scared of thunderstorms. I have even lovingly created nicknames for her such as “Stupid Whore” and “Slutty Slut.” I make sure to say them in a high-pitched tone of voice so that she knows I mean them endearingly. She wags her tail in response, so I figure she knows.
Despite our now pleasant relationship, I briefly considered murdering her last week. Breaking up a fight over a bone between her and Obi, my husband was bitten by Conney. Two days later his hand was red,swollen and he was in a tremendous amount of pain. He went to a minute-clinic (We have great insurance but have yet to seek out a doctor.) and they told him he needed to go to the emergency room. So Friday night, off we went to our local emergency room. His hand was infected enough for them to put him on an I.V. drip. They also took his blood and gave him a tetanus shot. (Precautionary, as Conney is up to date on her shots.) I noted to Robby that his dude nurse was quite nice eye-candy. He responded with a laugh and a smiling “F*** you!” Everything was fine for a while, even though I don’t do well with needles. I’ve passed out the last two times I’ve had blood drawn. I can’t begin to tell you how frustrating this is for me. I’m both a fear-facer & a control-freak; The fact that my body won’t physically let me conquer this fear makes me really mad. So despite my husband telling me that I could leave the room if I wanted, I stayed. I wanted to be there for him and I felt only slightly off-kilter for a while. But something, either the shot or all the blood-drawn, had a negative effect on Robby. He started sweating profusely and shaking and looking incredibly ill. He asked me to fan him with my book. I did. He stated that he really needed water. I noticed then that I had an extreme desire for water as well. I then started feeling everything he was feeling and began really needing fresh air. I walked out of the room, and that is when I knew. I told the receptionists, “I think I’m going to pass out.” Next thing I know, I am waking up from a dream and am surrounded by nurses and doctors. I am also lying on the floor. This bothers me. Why am I not in my bed?! I quickly remember and would really like to crawl into a hole. They want to check me into the emergency room and seem to believe that I hit my head on the hard floor. I won’t believe this until the next day when I find that the back of my head is really sore, and stubbornly refuse to be checked in. (I mean, a doctor wants to put ME on an I.V….I just passed out from seeing a reaction to needles. How could this possibly be a good idea?!) Still, I am placed on a cot and sent to a separate room. I overhear one doctor diagnosing me with a “Severe Needle-Phobia.” Well. I’m glad there’s an actual term for my insanity. Normal people go to the hospital to get better. I apparently go to the hospital to get injured. Sigh.
The upside to all of this? Eye-candy nurse brought me two cans of apple-juice.
So I guess I forgive Slutty Slut…er…I mean…Conney.