ABOUT WOMEN
Dog not woman's best friend with husband on deployment

By Tanya Bricking Leach
Advertiser Staff Writer

My slick shoes, my 76-pound Weimaraner and my hand on her leash as we entered the office turned out to be a bad combination.

Shanna became captivated by a little white dog in the waiting room, so she bounded through the door, knocking me off my feet right behind her.

It was quite an entrance.

My dog is all about being dramatic these days. Technically, she's not even "my" dog. Her real master, my husband, is away on deployment.

So I'm left trying to teach her who's boss.

Or maybe it's the other way around.

I'll admit I've never been much of a pet person. Growing up, my mom didn't allow dogs in the house. I'm allergic to cats, so I never really wanted one, even when we had two that lived in the shed.

When our goldfish Tootsie died, my siblings and I grieved by singing "Toot, Toot, Tootsie, Goodbye" as we flushed it down the toilet. And we gave away assorted birds and rabbits without feeling too brokenhearted about it.

As an adult, I've lived without pets because it was convenient. No responsibilities to worry about, no pet hair, no problem. So becoming roommates with Shanna has been one of the biggest adjustments of marriage.

We got off to a rough start just before my wedding last year when my hubby and I moved in together. I was the other woman, and the dog was the jealous ex-girlfriend. There wasn't room enough in the bed for the three of us, because the dog would stretch out in the middle and try to push me off the side.

It drove me nuts.

Funny how you put up with things while you're dating that you don't after you tie the knot.

Now I insist that the dog sleep in her kennel and stay off the bed. This saddened both my husband and the dog, but they've learned to live with it.

The dog forgave me (or so I thought), and after months of taking her on walks, petting her and doling out cookie bribes, we've bonded.

But she's been acting up again since my husband left for Afghanistan.

At first, it was sweet hearing her prance around the house looking for him. It wasn't so cute when she started digging in the garbage at every opportunity, searching for evidence of him in the form of Q-tips and razor blades.

She alternates between loving me and covering me with licks one minute and ignoring my commands like a hyper, defiant teenager 10 minutes later.

If this is a test of my mothering skills, I fear for my future.

My husband agrees that having her spayed might help her calm down. So that and obedience school are next, as long as I can get her back to the vet without requiring a doctor's visit myself.

Tanya Bricking Leach writes about relationships. Reach her at tbricking@honoluluadvertiser.com or 525-8026.