I'll Give it to You Good

My biggest New Year Resolution this year is to give more without giving more money. Actually, I'd like it to be that I don't give any money, but they take those United Way and We Care donations right out of my check, so that's a bust. So, it's settled that I simply won't give any more money than that.
No five dollar bills for the homeless guy on the corner.
No spare change for the Fireman's Boot.
No fishing for quarters for the Salvation Army bucket.
My Dimes will not be Marching anywhere.
I'll feel like a jerk as I pass these folks by, but that's the way it's got to be.
I'm not made of money after all.
I'm a single mom with a small paycheck and big rent!

Instead, I'll give the things that don't cost me a cent to give away.

I've already started.

I gave Destiny my old refrigerator that still works great. She had to come get it herself, though, because I only have a car. No truck. My dog became very aggressive and bit her. She ended up with a huge bruise and hasn't been back to my house, but hey, she got a free fridge, so it's all good.

One thing leads to another in this life. My dog became more and more aggressive, started fights with the neighborhood dogs, chased the mailman, lunged for my two-year-old grandson. Other horrible things happened, and so I made the very very hard decision to have her put down.

I bawled and bawled and bawled. I've made some very hard decisions in my life, and this one is pretty high up on the list. I hope you never have to do it.

But, because of that, I had a bunch of leftover dog food, which I was able to donate to Pam from Seafood who is on medical leave from work. Her short-term disability hasn't kicked in yet, so she was running low on funds. Dog food. One less thing she'll have to worry about for a little while.

Her dog was excited to see me. She was a happy, playful little pooch. Nothing like my dog, which made me realize that my decision wasn't necessarily an evil, self-centered thing. There was actually something seriously wrong with my dog.

Another thing I'm giving away is clothing. I did that thing that they say you should do. I tossed all the clothes I haven't worn in over a year, packed 'em up, and they are waiting patiently to be hauled to the thrift store. My closet is so empty.

Other things that don't cost me money to give?
Time.
Hugs.
Friendship.
Advice.
Encouragement.
Smiles.
Hey, I'm even willing to give you a hard time, if that's your thing.
I'm generous like that.

Unique to me?
I suppose I could give more paintings away.
I could edit something you wrote.
I could write more stories.

Speaking of that, I wonder where I left Mia and Neely.
I should probably give them a good ending.

Moochers

Our mixed breed, roadside rescue, spoiled rotten dog recently decided to go whoring around the neighborhood as if she were the hottest dog in the canine kingdom. That night out on the town resulted in the arrival of five furry little poop machines who are now living in the garage and making me feel guilty for not getting their mama spayed all those times I definitely could have but procrastinated just a little too much. Now we suffer.

I had decided not to name them. Giving them names would make it seem as if they were a part of the family, but they're not. Or at least they won't be for long, because I hope to have a long line of animal lovers lined up to take them off my hands as soon as the little monsters can choke down solid food.

Nevertheless, I have spent the last twenty minutes hunkered down on the garage floor, calling them by their rightful monikers:  Bitchy, Whiny, Fuckin'Hungry, Stinky and Faceplant.

(Bitchy is my favorite. She's so fluffy and cute and she wuvs her Ness, yes she does.)

100 Words: Budget Restraints

My dog is too sexy for the fish shaped pieces of dog food. She noses them onto the floor, as if they aren't even worthy of touching the bowl.

She's such a spoiled brat. I've let her get by with it far too long. There was a time when I would simply sigh and sweep them into the trash.

Nowadays, I'm clutching the wallet a little bit closer; everybody has to make sacrifices.

If I am forced to eat tuna fish out of a can, then she damn well better learn to eat those little pieces of fish shaped food.

Dog-Gone Dog Gone

My dog is moving out tomorrow.
She's not a fancy dog, or a well-bred pedigree. She's a roadside dog, really just a mutt. My friend Melina scooped her up on the highway one night driving back from Muleshoe. Her mother had already been hit and killed by another car, and my dog, still a puppy then, was lying on top of her mother's dead body, confused and lonely. Who knows how long she would have stayed there grieving before starving to death or possibly being killed herself.
Melina's landlord wouldn't allow her to have more than one dog. She already had a rough, tough puppy named Cookie, so I brought Hyway home to my kids. Matthew had always wanted a dog. David and Jacob had probably wanted one too, but not nearly as much as Matthew. I think Sara had already moved out by that time, or she was about to move out. I don't remember.
I've never been a dog person. Cats were always my pet of choice. Cats are generally low-maintenance pets. A couple of vet visits, a clean litterbox and a full dish of food. That's pretty much all a cat will demand of you. They have more important things to do than to be in the constant supervision of lowly humans.
Not dogs, though. Dogs need to be walked. They want to play fetch. They need to chase cars and cats and other dogs down the street. They have to warn you everytime the mailman drops mail in the box. They like to hang out with you in the back yard. They protect you from the vacuum cleaner. They howl at police sirens and tornado sirens and the moon. They bury things and dig things up. They go with you to the park and help you make friends. They scare away bad guys in the middle of the night.
My dog is a great dog.
I am a bad human.
I'm gone all day, and I forget to put her outside. I don't leave the TV on so that she's not lonely, and half the time, I forget to check her food. We rarely go walking. We never play fetch, and if she escapes the yard to go exploring the neighborhood, I don't chase her. I wait for her to get tired and come home.
She knows how to knock on the door. Seriously, she keeps banging until I get up and let her in.
Despite the fact that I don't care for dogs, and long for the day I can come home without finding the trashcan knocked over, she's fiercely overprotective of me. You're not allowed to touch me, or climb onto my bed. She'll attack. There will be bloodshed. That's why I can't take her to the park or any other public place. I'm scared she's going to hurt some kind soul who just wants to pet her. My own children aren't allowed to touch me. It makes hugging hard, but they like to tease her. They pretend to swat me, and it just makes her mad . She growls and snaps at them. It gets on my last nerve. I just want to relax and read my book without being in the middle of a war everyday.
Ordinarily, she's a friendly, energetic, bouncy, happy, funfunfun kind of dog. She loves the kids, even Sara, who hasn't lived with her. My grandson thinks she's all that. He likes to steal her toys and he curls up next to her in her bed and takes a nap with her. He cries when she knocks him over, but she's just saying hello, and she calms down as soon as she gets a good sniff of him. She thinks he's her baby. She's very gentle with him when they're playing. She plays fetch, and she actually drops the ball for him. She won't do that for me. She makes me work for it, and I usually get dog slobber all over my hand.

Tomorrow she's going to live with my two oldest children, Sara and David. They rented a house out in the country, and they called me today to see if I would give up the dog. They love her, and she loves them. I know it will be a big adjustment. This is the only home she's ever known, but she'll have more freedom in the country. It's not like I'm abandoning her out there, right? I'm leaving her with family members who love her. They love her.

They really do.

Now I have to go tell Matthew I'm giving away his dog.