Mommie Dearest

Remember that movie “Mommie Dearest?” Faye Dunaway played the part of screen queen Joan Crawford. The only things we probably remember about the movie are Joan Crawford’s caterpillar sized eyebrows and the now famous line, “NO MORE WIRE HANGERS!” I remember watching that movie and thinking to myself, “Huh. How is it possible that wire hangers could bring about such unfathomable rage?” Well, now that I’m a dog-owner, I think I may completely sympathize and understand Joan Crawford. Wow! There’s a sentence that should frighten us all.

I should point out that I am completely aware that when speaking about Miss Scout Jean Louise (the dachshund) it typically sounds like I’m referencing a two year old. My mom has said for the past year, “This is so insightful. I can’t wait to watch you with your kids.” I use terms such as ma’am and don’t be rude. It should also be noted that she’s completely spoiled and holds massive grudges when (easily) annoyed.

The month of September was a busy month for me. It held many late nights and weekend obligations. I’m lucky enough to have parents who look after Scout on those days where I will be gone for hours at a time. And while Scout loves my parents, apparently she loves her alone time and home time more. This is a little fact I found out the hard way the first weekend in October.

I was invited to attend a party for work on Saturday. I also planned to hit the store before the party to pick up some chips. The shindig began at 11am and I was only staying two hours. Two hours. Why would I even think about dropping Scout off at my parents? Not necessary. She would be fine in her beautiful bed complete with bone and food. The problem here is that Scout is extremely smart and observant. So. I’m assuming she knew it was a Saturday and she knows that she doesn’t get locked up on Saturdays. I’m also assuming she was watching for signs of a lock-up situation.

I put the finishing touches on my hair and make-up. I packed up my purse. I looked for Scout. Wait. Where’s Scout? I’ll tell you where she was, the little shit, she was under my bed. It should be noted that this is the only place in the house I’m unable to reach her. I had five minutes to wrangle her before I needed to leave. It was a 45-minute drive and I still needed to hit the grocery store. So I was a woman of action…or a liar…whatever you want to call me.

“Scout! Let’s go! We’re going to Nana’s. Do you want to see Gracie? COME ON!

This is usually a sure fire way to get her in the garage. She was on to my schemes. No movement from the cave.

Okay. Fine. I’ll open the garage. If she hears the garage she’ll come running. She’ll think it’s Nana and Gramps.

No movement. We’re ten minute in to this standoff.

Sigh. Okay. Doorbell. I’ll ring the doorbell and she’ll come running.

No movement.

Fine. You stay under there. I’ll sit on the couch with my iPad and pretend I’m watching a show.

No movement. We’ve now reached twenty minutes. At this point the chip purchase was out.

Okay. No problem. Not true. I’m sweating at this point. I’ll sit on top the bed. You’ll think I’m taking a nap and this will totally work.

No movement.

OKAY! OKAY! NO PROBLEM! I’ll get some cheese. You don’t want cheese? OKAY! NO PROBLEM! I’ll heat up a hotdog. OH! I SEE! You’re going to come close enough to me to nibble at my fingers, but out of reach for me to grab you. YOU LITTLE SHIT!

We’re now 30 minutes in to the standoff.

Last resort. A call to Dad in Florida as tears begin to build.

Me: “Hey Dad. I need a favor. I’m going to put you on speakerphone and I need you to start talking to Scout and calling her.

Dad: Dayna. I’m in the middle of a mall. I’m not doing that.

Me: I’M IN THE MIDDLE OF A CRISIS! I NEED YOUR HELP HERE!

Dad: Clearly this is your last resort. Are you crying? Why are you crying? Stop crying.

Me: She’s just so awful. I mean why is she treating me this way?

Dad: Okay. SCOUT? SCOUT? SCOUT?

Me: This is worthless. It’s not working. You’re not helping.

Dad: You called me! Of course it’s not working. I don’t know what to tell you. Call and cancel or I don’t know (laugh) get a broom.

Me: A BROOM! YES!

Dad: No…wait….I was jok-

CLICK

45 minutes in…

The broom. I flew down those stairs. I grabbed that broom. I stomped back up those stairs. I threw that broom under the bed. I started screaming like a madman. “You little shit. I’m late you’ve made me late. You get out heeerrreee! Who do you think you are? Do you think you’re in charge? You can just sit in your cage and think about this today. I may not let you go to Nana’s tomorrow. This is not acceptable."

And so she came out and peed because I had scared here. Lovely. Now I feel guilty for her bad attitude. I headed out to my party…with puffy eyes and a headache.

Phone Ringing:

Mom: Hey. Dad said I should call you. He said you and Scout are fighting.

Me: She's a little shit. She made me feel awful. I had to get a broom and she peed herself, Mom. PEED HERSELF! She made me turn into Mommie Dearest and now I feel guilty and I don’t know if I closed my garage and I don’t look good because I’m crying. THIS WAS MY MOMMIE DEAREST MOMENT!

Mom: I’ll go over and get her and check the garage.

Me: WHAT? Don’t reward her for bad behavior.

Mom: I think she’s needs some alone time with you. This is her punishment for you being busy this month. Just call and cancel your plans today.

Me: Yeah. They’ll love that. I can’t come I’m fighting with my dog.

Mom: Yeah. You’ll sound nuts.

I’m happy to report that when I picked her up three hours later she was so ridiculously affectionate. We’ve mended fences and haven’t had another episode. That may be because I shut the bedroom door when leaving now.

Let’s take bets. Who thinks I was being video taped that morning? Who thinks I’ll be reliving the same episode with my future 15-year-old daughter?