The Rent

I spent this month's rent on putting my dog to sleep.

I went to the Humane Society every day for a week in January. I'd told myself exactly a year from that week (I say that, but I've got no idea when I actually thought of the idea) that if I still want a dog a year later, I would get one, no matter what. I'd cuddled a number of puppies with big clumsy paws that were sure to foreshadow many a broken breakable and chewed Steve Madden's, which would suck because I only own two pairs. They had such wet little eyes and fuzzy bellies that each one seemed like the right pet, but not the right friend. The last day I went, January 28th, was actually the 8th day, because I wasn't ready to give up looking. I tried to figure things in percents - 80% sure that the lab/pit mix would be gigantic but really awesome. 95% about keeping the miniature pincher until it tried to maul a puppy through the chainlink. 75% sure I don't want a cat instead, even though they'd be an easier option.

I walked into the small dog kennel with my best friend, who I no longer talk to because she thinks I was texting her Neanderthal boyfriend. Seriously? Girls disgust me most of the time. Anyway, we walk in and there's a big orange and grey mess in the very first kennel on the right. The card on her cage reads "Carla" underneath pink highlighter, which indicates she's a girl. According to her info card, it was her birthday that day. January 28th. 80% sure that's a sign.
She's coughing and trying to use her red-pink tongue to push her overgrown hair out of her mouth without any success. Her backlegs were a dark orange, which I didn't understand. Is it mud? Does that mean she's sick? Man I don't know anything about dogs. I remember thinking to myself. The long matted hair from her stomach dragged across the floor, which was gross. This dog is gross.
My at-the-time-best-friend was loving this dog, though; she has a schnauzer of her own, which apparently is what this dog was supposed to be underneath all of her mess. She quickly went to work trying to sell me on her while throwing in plenty of "but it's your decision, don't let me influence you."
I asked to visit with the thing, and I'd be lying if I said I was thinking about getting her. I wanted a puppy. A lovable, cuddly bundle for me to raise. This dog was already four.
We went outside on the visitor's patio to see what she was like. She ran around excitedly in circles while we whistled and tried to get her attention. Occasionally she would stop to pay us a little bit of love, which was so surprisingly endearing. Her ears were big and stood straight up, except the tips of them which bounced quickly along with her footsteps. 65% this dog could be cute with that shit shaved off of her and a bath. I still wasn't sold, though.
She was put back into her cage, and we went to see her to say goodbye. She looked me right in the eyes when I opened the door, and she let out the shrillest, most annoying sound I've ever heard. Something about it told me I couldn't leave. I sat down in front of her for a good 25 minutes. By this time I'd come to the conclusion that I was 99% taking her home in my car. 99% sure her birthday was a sign. Does it go higher than 99%? I wasn't sure at the time, but now I know - it's always at 99%, because you're a little scared. Especially when it's your first dog.
She freaked out in the car, making that piercing yipping noise the whole time. 15% I made a mistake.
I named her Madeline, like the children's book. Carla is a stupid name.

Maddie and I had a rough start. She got a haircut and a bath, and when the groomer came back around the corner with her, I was a little disappointed. Her hair was so matted and dirty that they had to basically shave her. Plus the Rays were doing really good at the time, so they gave her a mohawk. Shaved with a Rayhawk, she looked like a little monster. It was almost cute, but mostly she creeped me out. I wasn't sure what to do - I'd already taken pictures of her and put them on Facebook, I didn't want to have to tell everyone I gave her back already. I can't believe I really thought about giving her back just because she didn't look cute enough, that's such a dick move.
A week into being a dog owner, she bit me. I was livid, but mostly because I was hurt. My first dog, the only that's supposed to be my best bud, doesn't even like me. I was right when I told myself that I didn't know anything about dogs, I didn't. I'd tried to pick her up while she was sleeping, and I'd frightened her. I didn't know that at the time though, so I scolded her and pushed her off the bed angrily. She wouldn't come up onto my bed for a few days after that.
I remember when I finally fell in love with her. I'd loved her all along of course, but it was like an obligatory love - she was mine, and I had her, so I loved her. Like the way you love your car, or an Ipod.
We were driving back to Lady Lake to see my best friend Hannah, a month or two later in March. I'd had her in a dog bed in the back seat, with a rawhide bone to keep her occupied. All of a sudden I felt the side of my cheek get warm, and I realized she was standing with her front two feet on the center console, her cheek almost pressing against mine. She had her eyes fixed onto the horizon, like she knew we were traveling somewhere. I realized we were driving home together, like she was my partner instead of my possession. I scratched her behind her ear and she gave my palm a few quick licks. From that day on, Maddie Rae always sat next to me instead of in the back.

She got really sick over the summer and I've never been so scared. I'd come home with groceries, just a handful of bags, back when I had to get the plastic bags so I had something to pick up dog doo with. My grandma had scared me that weekend, telling me that rawhides are really dangerous for small dogs since a piece can get stuck in their stomachs. Maddie Rae was a super-chewer so I knew I had to find a solution. I found some bones that were big thick compressed something or other that were for dental hygiene. Schnauzers have a lot of teeth issues. I picked those ones, since the compressed-stuff bones for dogs that chew a lot had corn meal in them, and corn meal isn't good for Schnauzers. Of course I would pick the most complicated dog, right?
So I come home with this pack of three bones that cost me almost ten bucks, and I pull one out in the car so it's already in my hand when I get to the door. She was so stoked. I set the bags down on the ground and began putting away the groceries. I noticed a items were super old, so I started cleaning out leftovers as I put things away. I turned to grab the last bag and there she was, gobbling down the third and last bone from the bag. I panicked and tried to grab the chunk that was left from her mouth, but she wasn't letting go. She could be seriously bratty at times.

I kept an eagle eye on her for the next two days to make sure no funny business happened. She went to the bathroom, went for walks, and barked at black people like she usually did, so I wasn't concerned. I came home from work on the third day and she didn't greet me at the door. Instead I walked into my studio and found puddles of vomit and diarrhea and my baby girl shaking, walking towards me. She came up to me and laid down across my feet with a sigh. Holy Shit.I KILLED her. Frantically I dialed my vet's office and was redirected to the animal hospital up the road. With tears biting at my throat I tried to explain the situation to a nurse - she wanted me to come in so they could see her immediately, it might be serious, she said. I don't have any money, though. I went anyways. I was so frazzled I could barely put the key in the ignition. Mom, Maddie's dead. I fed her three fucking bones all at once. I was psyching myself and making it impossible to function, so I called my oldest sister and told her to just talk about nothing with me on my way to the FVS. Thank God I got a GPS for my birthday. She bullshitted with me all the way to the hospital, and when I came jogging into the office, Maddie Rae in my arms, there were other people waiting in front of me. By this time it was 12:30 at night, so it seemed ridiculous that all of these people had emergencies, too. Mine is more important, get out of my way, get out of my way. I listened in on the man in front of me, who was explaining that his carrier he was holding (which apparently contained a cat) had been hiding in his closet for days. Seriously? Your cat hates you, that's why he's hiding, now fucking MOVE.
My patience is always more powerful than my bite, however, so I waited. A woman asks me what's wrong and before she finishes her sentence I begin to ramble to her, then I start crying, then sobbing, then I have to sit down. She takes Maddie from me and pats me on the shoulder.
I zone back in and I'm filling out paperwork, and my mom is calling me. Awesome, my older sister told her I bet. I answer and I can't really speak, so she yells at me and tells me to calm down. Brilliant. I take a few breaths and explain quickly, and tell her where I am. Of course her first words are "You don't have the money for that." And I'm in tears again. I know I don't, I know I don't. But I can't let this be my fault. I can't. "You don't even have rent, Kelley." Seriously, just stop. I know. I know. But I can't, mom. I can't let her...
I don't know anything about dogs.
The doctor comes back and Maddie is a little perkier. They gave her some oxygen to help her calm down a bit. That was nice, but she needs real help, how does she get real help? It's a hospital, shouldn't they have started fixing her by now?? The doctor looks at me with a forced look of understanding on her face. Fuck. She knows I'm a student and I'm broke and she's trying to empathize and this is bullshit, she can't go this way.
The doctor explains that she has to stay overnight. She needs fluids, and there's some sort of blockage in her abdomen, but they aren't sure that it's her stomach. There's blood in her urine. Blood? From eating too many bones? Why? I sob these questions into her face, wiping snot on my sleeve. I'm sure I looked a little frightening, either that or pathetic.
She says it might be her kidneys. If it's her kidneys, that means surgery. If it's a stomach blockage, that means surgery. But they need an x-ray to know.
Instead of playing the percentage game, I was now playing a sick game of prices - how high is too high of a price to save your pet? She isn't my pet though, she's more than that. She's more than that. The doctor could see me doing math, and she nodded slowly in agreeance.
$1,000 is as far as I could go, if I begged and pleaded from a few people.
The bill was $1,007. I had to pay before they would do anything, what the fuck kind of place does that? I had to pry the money from my mom's hands, but thankfully she agreed to pay. If it had been the middle of the day, I don't think she would've been so easy.
They said she was super dehydrated and something was up with her kidneys - either an infection or stones. Infection was solved with just meds, while, like before, kidney stones would mean surgery.

She took meds for a kidney infection, and she got a thousand times better, so I assumed that must've been it, just a kidney infection. Good. I even got her special dog food for dogs with kidney issues from the vet my twin sister works at. That's the vet we usually go to, because she knows some of the people there so she doesn't get as anxious. She had the WORST separation anxiety, she would howl for a good five minutes after I left, Kryssa said. I could hear her bark from outside of the building. Even sometimes when I left my apartment, if I didn't say goodbye properly she would freak out. Crazy ass dog...

So when I came home on Thursday and she had thrown up a little, I felt that same panic in my spine, but she was acting normal, still all hyper and full of energy. I figured she just ate too much, I had overfed her a bit the day before. We took a long ass nap, and then I got up to take her for a walk. She was shaking when I looked at her, which had me worried all over again. But I don't have any money so I kept trying to convince myself that she was fine. She's just cold, I told myself, so I put a sweater on her. I got a leash from the wall and she still jumped up excitedly. See? Totally fine.
We walked out the door and she was trailing behind me instead of pulling me forward like usual... maybe she's just tired. We go for a walk and she slows her pace even more until she finally just sits down and I'm numb. I didn't know what to do. She's shaking, then she starts to gag and vomits. I'm sitting on the ground outside with her, at 3 in the morning, and I just don't know. That was the last time she walked. I pick her up and take her inside, laying her next to me on the couch. I call that overpriced hospital and just ask them for advice. I can't afford to go back to your place, I don't know what to do, I tell them. She tells me it's okay, just wait until your vet opens in the morning. Four hours seemed dangerous to wait. I fed her some water, tried to get her to eat some food. She'll get better... I tried weakly to tell myself.

By the time we were at the vet her breathing was fast and uneven. I was in tears, trying so hard to think of anything she could've gotten into. Bleach? Sweets? I carry her in and the lady up front looks worried when she looks in Maddie's mouth. I'm in tears again. They know I'm Kryssa's sister, they know me here. Everyone's gonna know I accidentally poisoned my dog. Everything moved really really fast after that.
Kryssa came to be with me the minute she knew I was there. I don't know how she knew something was wrong, twin thing, I guess. She saw me crying and a look flashed across her face that I knew really well. The "Oh man, my twin is crying and I can't do anything" feeling that feels like you're pushing against your own skin. The vet took one look at her and said she looked like she had kidney stones. We can do some expensive tests, he said, but he's been doing this awhile and he's positive it's stones. His eyes were light blue I think. He was genuinely sincere, not fake sincere like the hospital people. I started brainstorming ways to get a loan, or borrow money, or something. How much can surgery be? It can't be all that much, I can do this. I can fix this. Kryssa was so great. She calmly spoke with me while I was sobbing, choking because my stomach was upset from seeing Maddie so sick.
"It's not your fault, I would do the same thing, I know it's hard now, but it's for her." It all still seems so wrong.
I just want my dog back, that's all.

The Shore

Forced myself to write on an off day - didn't edit it at all, just one fluid chunk all at once.


The sun gleamed off the ocean water, and with one sultry glare she turned the sands raspy texture to that of glossy plastic.

I planted my toes deep within the shore, trying to force myself beneath the earth.
The breeze wrapped around my shoulders, and I leaned my weight into it.

This place makes me think of everything all at once.
About broken childhood toys, my brother's coin collection, raccoons digging through our rubbish bins, my loose teeth. Time struggles to continue here, I think, just like when you're young and you try to run underwater.
It makes me, obligates me, to remember that first time she'd gotten sick. I'd held the loose frame of my mother in my arms, whispering frantically that'd she be okay, she'd be okay. My mother nodded weakly in agreeance but even then I could see the color leaving her blouse.
This beach, this goddamn beach. We'd spent so many summers vacationing her, and now it's a tomb. Bits of her teeth and her legs and her hair all mixed in with the sand, the dog piss, the beer bottles.
I'd had a mother. One that hugs you and smells like clean linens and makes the best scrambled eggs. Then I had a room in a hospital, and then a box, and then charcoal sand. And now I've got broken sea shells and this grey-scale green water and it isn't a fair trade at all.