Big Girls Don't Cry

Not in this house anyhow. Being weak in my house leads to instability which is not something that's allowed when working with insecure/dominant aggressive dogs. If I'm weak, Mako will try to be the one in control and that is never a good thing. Let's face facts she can't control herself, thus having her attempt to control anything else, well that road leads to mucho badness. As such yes, I can come off as either an always happy freak or an ice princess who doesn't show any real emotion. The later being the belief of those whom are seeking a stronger reaction from me than I am able to give them at that moment. No, it isn't easy being my friend. My friends will always come second to the animals in my care. They are essentially furry children that never grow up, move out, get jobs or lives of their own. I will forever be responsible for them and their behaviours.

Many will never understand that.

So I will admit I react badly when I get messages from those claiming 'friendship' saying things like, "Mako will never be a good dog. You really should just put her down." Or the criticizing of Mako seen wearing a muzzle and/or leash even in the confines of our backyard with, "That dog must be nuts to have to wear a muzzle in her own back yard. She's so sad. That's no life for her, she be better off dead." And that is where I have to take a deep breath and remind myself, big girls don't cry. Not in this house. That's a luxury I cannot afford. So I cram the hurt down into that well that isn't permitted to ever see the light of day with so much force my bones ache and my stomach flop flops. I bite my tongue until it bleeds and I breathe.

Then I write. I pour it all onto paper. Sometimes my pen tears through the paper, sometimes its the only thing keeping me from punching someone in the throat. Sometimes it helps me remember I am human and have all those silly human emotions. Then I remember the golden rule. Be. In. Control. So I breathe again, I plaster a smile upon my face, schedule a 2 minute cry for my mourning shower while I wash my face pull my shit together and throw the paper away.

I look at my dogs. I smile and see that tail wag, most days. I whisper, "I love you good girl" and decide tomorrow is another day. If I cannot change the situation, I can control my reaction to it. I am their rock. How could I ever give up on them? They've never given up on me.

My feelings aren't what matters here. Their safety, and the safety of my daughter does. I cannot fail them.