Traveling, whether for business or pleasure, has always been a part of my life. My parents forced me to camp. Every other year, our family unit went to the Big Apple to see my father's family. I vividly remember the non-stop flights from Denver to New York - we typically flew TWA and the smokers would be huddled in the boot of the plane veiled in a cloud of smoke as I tried to make my way to the loo. I also remember my brother puking on those flights too. Of course, any transportation that moved combined with his propensity to overeat led to a childhood flowing with vomit.
But my brother, the puker has nothing to do with what I am struggling with now. These days I am dealing with a hound dog suffering from severe separation anxiety. You see, my dear Lulu returned from her fall kennel visits with this over-the-top anxiety issue. I brought a healthy hound to the doggie day spa and they returned a nervous wreck who shakes at the mere thought I might leave the room. Of course the doggie day spa claims nothing happened while under their care.... umm, yeah, right, I am so believing their convincing performance. Lulu has been kenneled on a regular basis since I adopted her because mommy must travel! We have never had any kennel mishaps until arriving in Texas. Something is definitely rotten in the outskirts of Austin.
Needless to say, Lulu had to see to a second vet to determine what to do. The answer? Prozac. Yes, my little Nervous Nellie is officially on anti-depressants. Giggling every step of the way, I took the canine prescription to Wally World where the pharmacist informed me that I'd "be surprised by how many Austin dogs are on Prozac." Sadly, much like in humans, it takes awhile for the levels to build, which means that I still have a ball of unbridled nerves on my hands. Each day I pray faithfully to the Prozac gods that today will be the day that relief comes. Not so much for the dog, mind you, but for me because I live in terror of what Lulu might do to herself while not under adult supervision. I can only drink so much wine to calm my nerves.
I now plan my schedule around the dog. However, I am not pleased at that, but I do love her. As Lulu's ninth birthday nears, she is trying my last nerve. I truly wish she would just muster up the words to tell me what bad thing happened while mommy was gallivanting in strange lands. Hopefully the Prozac kicks in soon or I might be forced to promise The Dog Whisper anything he wants. And in my desperate state, Cesar will get all that he wants. No questions asked.