Wednesday, July 13, 2011

I feel like the worst kind of person tonight. I have left poor, defenseless Mazie locked up and alone in the barn.  And her sin is only this:  she is a woman.  I am the worst kind of hypocrite.  When it's my time to "be a woman" as I so delicately put it, I like to get back rubs unless I prefer to not be touch lest I rip your arm off and beat you with the bloody stump, eat chocolate, chips, cookies, ice cream, cake, cheeseburgers/whatever floats my boat while languishing in bed, moaning at the top of my lungs how I want a sex change operation and that me and Eve are going to have a Come To Jesus meeting when I get to heaven.

And here I've done pushed my delicate little lady out into the cold hard night (it's 85 degrees, but you know what I mean).  Now, lest you think I'm some sort of monster, she's in a 10x10 dog run that my wonderfully strong husband put up inside the horses' stall - poor Blitz is out in the cold/heat now.  She has a bucket of water, fresh food, a horse blanket and a pile of hay.  The radio is crooning country music ballads from her favorite radio station, 101.1. And still she howls, barks, and yips.  It's times like these I'm so thankful for hearing aids.  Take those babies out and it's instant silence. I called the neighbors to make sure they couldn't hear her.  They can't.  The kids can, loud and clear, but they can just deal with that. I don't care about making my kids happy, just my neighbors.

I went outside and had a heart to heart with Mazie, explaining how being in heat wouldn't last forever and then she could come back in the house. Next heat she could get her some, if you know what I mean (she didn't), and it would end early.  Then she'd have a short pregnancy, pop out five or six wee ones (no more, please), and wam bam thank you maam, we'd get her spayed and it would all be behind her.  She listened well enough, but as soon as I stopped talking, she set back to howling, "Whyyyyyy can't you make Buddy stay in the barn and I stay in the house?"  Well, because he isn't bleeding, genius.  That's a practically new couch.

So I'm inside feeling rather guilty while Mazie sits in her dirt floored pen with no Midol/Dr. Pepper/chocolate/DirecTv.  I'll just have to deal with my feelings though, because no way am I sleeping out there just to make my guilt go away.

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