Hell’s Belles or It’s not you. It’s me.

So I would have LOVED to show you a cute little picture of Belle being all kind and sweet. But this is more how she is. A blur. She does have her kind and sweet moments but pretty much from the time her sleepiness wears off after a nap (which is around a minute and a half) until we turn off the lights at night and lock her in the laundry room … she’s non-stop.

I took her to the vet for her final round of puppy shots and her rabies shot yesterday after Grace got out of school. I had taken her in my car each time until yesterday. I STARTED in the care but quickly realized the futility of that by the time we reached the mailbox and turned around for the truck. She rode in the back. With the deer blood. Nice.

She weighed 20 lbs at the vet. Well, we THINK she weighed 20 lbs. She would barely sit still long enough for the scale to register. It took two vet techs to give her her shots. She’s a handful.

We have really been making an effort to take her on several walks a day which with the time change has grown more and more difficult. We are off today so she’s been on two walks already. I still had to give her a time out in the laundry room just now for my own sanity. NOW she’s napping. I have about ten minutes of peace and quiet before all hell breaks loose and it all starts again.

My problem is once again summed up in a Seinfeld episode … I have no hand. You can watch the clip here   Upper Hand  and you’ll understand immediately. Actually, I’ve NEVER had any hand. After dozens of junior high and high school kids during my three long dog years of teaching HS English, now somewhere around the fifth pet, a husband and a kid of my own you would THINK that somewhere along the way I would have acquired the necessary skills or at least come across some voodoo hypnosis tricks to ensure some minute amount of hand. Nope. No hand. Handless.

Grace and Belle both mind Bryon without question or fussing. I might as well be invisible. In fact, sometimes I wonder if maybe I’m not. One day years ago after an especially trying seventh grade, seventh hour English class I told the class in frustration, “What am I invisible? No, that can’t be the case, I can hear myself talking. I can see myself. Yet, no one in this room is listening to me.” I was literally saved by the bell.

The counselor’s office was right next door to my classroom and the principal’s office was across the hall. I walked into the counselor’s office where several of my soldiers in arms were already gathered for our daily bitch and moan session after school. I walked in and one of them said, “Has anyone seen Mrs. Medley? She must be invisible.”

Har de har har.

Still that was the perfect example of my complete inability to bend people of animals to my will. I could never be a politician … or a coach … or a lot of things.

If there was a conference I could go to so I could achieve hand on a regular basis, I would happily pay up.

I am signing up to take Belle to obedience class in Rogersville starting January 25. I figure it can’t hurt.

I just hope we both survive until then.


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