Mads is Mad

I lied. The addicted one is at it again. Surprise surprise. All I want to say is that I've been chatting about my blogging since I began last week and friends and family are excited and supportive. I even have a whopping five followers! One friend asks daily when I'm posting so he can read it. If that's not a monster stroke to the ego, I don't know what is. So, I will continue this blog because, well, the words keep coming and they're keeping me awake at night, and because I am enjoying the ego stroke. I haven't been stroked in a while. But that's a story for another time, maybe another place.

There is one person, creature, living thing, animal and loved one that does not, not even a little bit, enjoy my blogging. In fact, instead of stroking me, she's scratching me with her nails, biting me with her little teeth and yelling at me in the form of a distinctive and high pitched BARK. This is my precious, attention-whore, apricot color-coated, miniature poodle puppy Madeline.

Madeline and I are a two woman show. When I first bought her I was nervous about how we would mesh because I wasn't certain that my tiny apartment had enough room for two bitches. I had just moved out of the condo I shared with my ex and found Madeline at a pet store when I wasn't looking for a dog AT ALL. Upon bringing her home, I freaked out thinking, "I cannot take care of another living thing, I can barely take care of myself." But in time, while I learned to take care of myself, I have also learned to take care of her. Some days, I think she takes care of me. And our dynamic goes something like this: she is completely content following me wherever I go, even if it means sitting outside the bathroom while I'm in there, or ironing my shirt on the floor. And I am content having her right next to me at all times. Occasionally she wants a belly rub or to be held like a baby and walked around while I sing her sweet songs. (Or maybe I just do that because well, sometimes I just have the need to hold things like babies and and feel like a mother). Madeline's favorite past time is running. Sometimes when I bring her to the park and watch her do her thing, I can't stop smiling and laughing as I watch the freedom she emanates as she sprints across the field, forgetting anyone else is there (including myself when I try to leash her with no success). So we do daily trips to the park, we do TV together during the day, we do belly scratches sporadically, we do fetch across the apartment floor, and we do treats when I'm sitting on the couch and she's playing on the carpet with her toys and I am overcome with absolute love for my furball from heaven and feel the need to reward her just for being in my life.

Madeline and I are intertwined and we're comfortable with the dynamic of our relationship. That is, until last week when I began cheating on her with my computer. I have found myself typing for hours, forgetting that time has passed, time that Madeline is used to being hers and mine. But most of all, I have forgotten to show her how much she means to me this week and it's quite obvious that she is quite upset. The table my mac sits on is a high-top with a bar-stool type chair. In other words, to my 9 lb miniature poodle, it's like staring up at a sky scraper from the sidewalk down below. She doesn't enjoy craning her neck, trying to figure out what I'm doing. She doesn't like having to jump up to feel my leg or touch my arm. She wants me to get the hell down. To get my attention she's now doing things like taking the kitchen rug and attempting to rip it to shreds with her baby teeth. Or peeing on the floor next to me and gazing up at me as if to say, "look at what you've done to me." She's also completely wreaking havoc on her crate. I bought her a new comfy bed to sleep in while she's in there and she is having none of it. She has already ripped it out, propped it on it's side and barreled into it like a bull to a red flag. My baby is mad as hell and she's not going to take it anymore.

I haven't figured out exactly what the solution is but I think that if I continue blogging, I may have to take more time to show my lady more love. Because she lights up my life. She's my favorite friend, my favorite thing to touch, my favorite thing to come home to (and the only thing I come home to) and my favorite pillow to cry on. I love blogging like alot. Like a lot a lot. But make no mistake, I love Madeline more. I just keep forgetting to show her.