No, I am not yet divorced. That _______ (whatever he is) is like a persistent barnacle.
Or a tick.
But calling him names is not my point today.
This is a post about Harper’s birthday and the unnecessary cruelty I need to acknowledge so I can compartmentalize it and keep up the party planning.
Harper LOVES Husband. So much. In fact, I might even say she loved him more than me.
Is it strange I have no sorrow that he is gone from our lives — except when I think about Harper?
Even after all this time, I have easy tears when I imagine Harper just waiting for him to come back. Wondering where her dad went.
How do you tell a dog that she doesn’t matter to the person who matters so much to her?
💔
How do I tell Harper that the one who would send her into paroxysms of joy if she could just see him again views her as nothing but “property” that can be leveraged to cause maximum pain and insult?
How do you tell a dog that someone she adores, who held her as brand new baby, thinks her value is as a weapon?
Husband’s attorney recently demanded that I produce a variety of records and information about my dogs, including:
“List and describe all dogs currently in your possession. State any and all competitions they have performed in and any awards they have won. If any said dogs have had litters in the past 7 years please list the number of puppies, the status of those puppies, i.e. were they kept, sold or otherwise disposed of.”
Yes, her writing skills are a wee bit unfortunate.
And yes, she said “disposed of” — as if puppies are trash.
Baby Harper B for Barcelona
Perhaps she can be forgiven for not understanding there is no money made at dogs shows, no income generated from breeding the occasional litter in the way I do.
But Husband knows.
We shall assume she doesn’t understand how very expensive it is to maintain a Bernese Mountain Dog well. She is likely unaware of the costs associated with health testing, veterinary care, quality food, and on and on and on.
But Husband knows.
His attorney cannot possibly understand what my dogs mean to me. That they are not property. That they are not a business, and that the suggestion I generate income from my beloved dogs is profoundly and deeply insulting to me.
But Husband knows.
He knows all of that.
Harper B will be 12 in two days. I have maintained my girl — well — for 12 years.
When she blew out both knees, I traveled and paid large amounts of money to have her fixed by experts. When she had life-threatening pyometra, I paid for the surgery/care that saved her life.
Of course I did. What else would I do? “Dispose” of her?
It didn’t matter that she would never have puppies — Harper still had her health testing done.
She competed in draft and obedience. She earned her TD and TDX. Harper’s quality of life was enriched because of those things — dollars well spent.
Harper B — new TD at six months old
Husband knows all of that.
And he still let his attorney write those insulting demands to me.
The offense landed hard. I recognized and felt the intentional and unnecessary cruelty. I was left breathless and reeling, sent spinning back to that sense of overwhelming incredulity.
What.the.actual.fork?!
But even more — I hurt for Harper. I am burning at the disrespect.
Harper, so devoted and full of unconditional love for him, reduced to nothing more than a way to hurt and insult me.
A piece of property.
Divorce with Dogs — like Life with Dogs — is certainly revealing.
But maybe it is also revealing about me because — oh my heck — I forgot to assume good intentions!
Maybe he wants the info because he wants to split the expenses associated with the dogs — because he sure as 💩 knows there is no “profit.”
He knows the dogs are expensive and maybe he just wants to help.
I am sure that is it.
What a guy!
Yesterday I spent some time calculating Harper’s worth: Priceless.
I also considered how much I have spent on her across her lifetime: $40,000 - $50,000. At least.
She won no prize monies, had no puppies, did not pick the winning lottery ticket.
It will be so great to have half of that money back!