Brinkley&Me: Safety First

It’s safe to say my level of crazy has once again reached new heights. What did it this time? A bone.

I don’t have kids, but I do have a dog. And right now, that is enough for me. Randomly it hits me that I am in charge of this living things life. In charge of it’s safety and happiness. I’ve got the food, cleaning, and training under control. It’s the safe and happy part that I lose my mind over. This living, breathing puppy just wants to make me happy. And I could cry when I think about it because I’m a very emotional person. Something so little, so loyal, and so harmless has latched onto me. Now I must protect it and be there for it. ….a little overwhelming sometimes.

The most recent example of this was last night. I’d had a long day at work, and really wanted to enjoy the Cowboys game. I decided to hang out with my friends at “Monday Fun Day”, which I have never done simply because going meant putting Brinkley in his crate. When getting home from work, the last thing I want to do is think about putting him back in his crate. Nights are when we play and cuddle. I knew that I was going to be dog sitting him and Major the rest of the week though so I decided to go.

On my way home from work, I kept thinking about Brinkley’s happiness. My scale of happy for him is how much does his tail wag? Being in his crate probably wouldn’t make it wag. So what would make it better? A bone. He loves bones.

I’ve never let Brinkley have a bone in his crate. I’ve always feared he would choke on it while I was gone. But I wanted to make him happy so I put two bones in his crate to enjoy while I was gone.

Brandon reassured me all the way to Monday Fun Day that Brinkley would be fine and at first I believed him. I said a prayer out loud asking God to watch Brinkley and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. I ordered a beer to help me relax and I watched the cowboys. About every thirty minutes my mind would wander from the conversation at the table to Brinkley and his bone. The sounds of him pathetically gagging on a bone haunted my thoughts. Every thirty minutes turned into every fifteen, ten, five, two. Eventually it was pretty much all I could think about.

Brinkley don’t die. Where is our check? Brinkley just go to sleep. The Cowboys need a new center. I will never forgive myself if he is dead. I would never have kids. I was supposed to make him homemade dog treats this weekend and he won’t be around for it. I’m going to be so dependent on antidepressants. Brinkley, please be alive.

I’m fairly confident that it was obvious that I was no longer having a Monday Fun Day by the look on my face, because Brandon took one look at me and insisted that we leave immediately…after the Cowboys get a 4^th down.

I said my goodbyes, and skipped hugging because it would take too long. I walked to the car, got in the passenger seat, and immediately started bawling. Not quiet, random tears. I sounded like a raccoon getting hit by a car. I probably looked like one too with my mascara all over my eyes. Except I would have to be a naked mole rat with raccoon eyes or something because my face gets super red when I cry. I was wailing, uncontrollably. I tried to explain to the baffled Brandon what was wrong but I could barely take breaths between the bawling. I finally was able to scream, “I DON’T WANT BRINKLEY TO BE DEADDDDDD”.

I’m sure this is shocking but Brinkley was still alive. The sight of him jumping in my lap and wagging his tail made me bawl more, obviously. The unnecessary traumatizing night was enough to allow myself to let Brinkley sleep with me in bed all night.

To be honest, I don’t have a moral to the story. I can’t say that I won’t ever give him a bone in his crate again because I think that is irrational. But I also can’t honestly say I’m ever going to be calm when thinking about it. I don’t know how parents can be sane when letting their kids grow up, but I have a newfound respect for them.

All I know is I should probably apologize to my unborn children in advance for their ridiculously paranoid future mom.

I'll go ahead and be a normal mom for a second and just post cute pictures of my dog: