This is Lobo.
He’s my protector. My best friend. My constant companion. I’m pretty sure he loves me more than anyone else in the world. Look at that face. So full of love, adoration, loyalty…betrayal.
I mean, he won’t even look at me.
So, you know when you’re in the midst of some pretty intense hormone emotion? (I’m talking specifically to the ladies here. The other life-manufacturers of the world.) Like, all of the stresses of the world are weighing down on you, no one loves you, everything is falling apart, nothing will ever be good again emotions? They don’t last long. And when everything is back in balance, life can once again be amazing.
But when you’re smack in the middle of it…it can get pretty ugly.
It’s possible that I may have had one of those ugly times recently. And when I say ugly, I mean ugly crying. I mean heart-wrenching, soul-sucking sobbing. I mean the kind of sobbing that gets to the point where you’re no longer sure whether you’re still crying or have actually moved over into laughter. And not normal, happy laughter, either. I’m talking maniacal laughter. Like, this is exactly what they created the word maniacal for. The kind of laughter that causes people to slowly back out of the room. And just when you start to think, “oh good, I’m laughing now. Laughing is good,” you shift straight back into crying. And then you get kinda angry, because you can’t hold onto the laughter, which would probably feel pretty good right then. But really, the relentless sobbing actually feels pretty good, too, so you just really get into it.
So, dogs are supposed to be these love you unconditionally, calming, nurturing, take care of you when you’re sad creatures, right? Like my friend Kim pointed out as she was definitely not laughing at me during such an episode, dogs are used to help individuals with autism calm down in the midst of a meltdown. That’s what they do. They see us through our drama. They can handle it. They love us more than themselves.
Yeah, so my Lobo. My sweet little rescue baby Lobo, saw me in the midst of this hormonal breakdown recently, said “Nope” and got up and walked out of the room. He said, “I can’t even be bothered with your level of crazy right now,” and straight up bounced. Wouldn’t even make eye contact as he was leaving. And stayed in the other room for the duration of this breakdown.
In fact, every single animal in my home left. I mean, this one eventually came around once the sobbing slowed down into more of a whimper. But even she wouldn’t actually look at me.