So we have this dog, She awesome. I love her. She’s a puppy and she isn’t housebroken. I’ve tried to housebreak her but with three kids under foot, I have a hard time getting the consistent schedule and attention she needs. When I take her out, I can’t stay out there for an hour until she goes poop; I have to get back inside to my children. And if my children are with me, I have to watch them over her. She is without any flaws or faults whatsoever. It’s just me.
My husband, he’s got this thing where he resents new pets. He wants to know why he needs to take them out. Why he needs to walk them. Why I don’t do it more often. Why does he have to clean it up. Why is it his fault if the gate is left open. He is, in short, not helpful.
This isn’t the first time we’ve had a pet and he’s been unhelpful. Those pets found new homes, also because I couldn’t do it all by myself. He accuses me of being exactly like my father; a man who hoards animals, refusing to take care of them until they are too bothersome to him, at which point he has them put down. I’ve found new homes for every animal I’ve brought in and could not manage by myself except for one, which was scooped up from the shelter he was taken to before the end of the day.
I don’t take pet ownership lightly. I don’t. I thought when I brought home these animals that my partner and husband would be helpful. Proactive. Involved. Responsible. Anything but bitter, resentful, complaining.
He never has been.
When the fights break out (and they always do), I hear about how heartbroken and miserable he is because I’ve given his pets away over and over, but I’ve never seen him try to keep one.
I think he’s traumatized by his parents just giving up his dogs whenever it was inconvenient to keep them when he was a child. No fanfare, no discussion, no thought, they’d just up and remove he only friend from his life without so much as a “sorry”. I think he’s incapable of bonding and taking responsibility for animals he supposedly loves and wants for this reason. And I think he totally recreates the same situation over and over again, except I’m the stand-in for his mother (as usual), and he’s always caught flat footed by my cruel whims (hah) to just take his doggies away.
The regular typecasting continues: I’m the devil to his victim, limiting my options to keeping the animal and slowly going crazy as I am unable to provide all that is needed by myself, and the animal (and my children, my marriage, me, and my carpets) suffers, OR I get the animal a new home with people better able to provide for the pet that I love and don’t in any way want to lose, cementing in his eyes my cruelty and indifference.
If any of you are wondering why I want a divorce, every single decision, every single choice, every single bit of my life with him in it is flooded with this kind of shit. Even breakfast decisions.
The dog is getting a new home because she deserves better than this.
My kids deserve better than this.
I deserve better than this.
I think we should all get a new home, too.