My Husband Is Having a Midlife Crisis

Warning: This post is a little long, but I’m naturally long winded, my apologies.
I think Jeri is going through a mid-life crisis! His 43 b-day is tomorrow. Last night he calls me from work. He says… “Why did your son need to bring home that puppy?” Oh man, he’s still thinking about that dog. This is really out of character for my husband. I’ve always been the one, along with our kids, that initiated the dog wanting and getting, for that matter.
Now we had a dog once, when Amanda was 5. A cocker spaniel. It bit Amanda in the face and left scars, and with 3 small kids, and me not knowing much about dogs, I felt we needed to get rid of it. A decision that will haunt me the rest of my life, I still feel guilty about it.
About 8 years ago, I decide it’s time to try the dog thing again. I had some friends who had a wiener dog, and when I was there (they live in Marshall) he would just love me, and would be excited every time I went for a visit. So reluctantly, Jeri says I can bring Bowser home for a trial. So we can see how we will do with a dog around. We had him almost two weeks. It went well, and while looking online for the best fit for us, which consisted of a test to see what breed we were compatible with, we decided on a min-pin. Before we knew it, we were the owners of Hanna. Who at this minute is barking in such a high pitch, it hurts.
But I digress, our life was happy and we went merrily along until the day that I spotted an add in the work classifieds. Someone was giving away a purebred min-pin. In asking a fellow employee if she recognized the prefix to the phone number, she said she knew that dog. It needed a home, the owners mistreated it. I call Jeri, he says no. I call him again. Okay, okay, he agrees to take a look at it. At this point I know I’m taking it home, no matter what. We get there, it’s not a purebred- don’t care- 10 minutes later, away we go. His name was Lucky, it now is Carter. Cater didn’t like Jeri, it took 3 days for him to let Jeri sleep back in our bed.
We are at the mall one day, Amanda was about 10 years old. We stopped at the pet store and she fell in love with a little Pomeranian puppy. It was for sale at an un-Godly price, and besides that, we refused to buy from a pet store. Puppy mills and all that. She begged and pleaded. We told her, if she wants one bad enough, she could look in the paper and online and see if finds one. If she did, the deal was for her to call herself with any inquires. Amanda was up for the challenge and located a place she wanted to check out about 3 hours away. Bad parents that we are, we let her skip school and off we went in search of dog for Amanda. We picked the one we wanted, all, of course, were adorable. After some months of having Niobe at home, she started having accidents in Amanda’s bed. She was trained, we had done that, so it was weird. We thought, newly trained, they are bound for an accident or two. But it continued, then happened during the day when we were all home. We took her to our veterinarian. After lots of tests and money we found out that she was Diabetic. Diabetic and less than a year old. It’s very rare. We called the breeder merely to let her know. She offered us a refund or a different dog. We loved Niobe, and we wanted to keep her. She did well for a while, and I have to say we did as well, with the shots and all.
While out at a fair, I ran across ReGAP, Retired Greyhounds as Pets. I fell in love with a dog that was fawn colored. I checked online and she was 9 years old. It took me 2 months to talk Jeri into adding a fourth dog to our house. I finally had to take him, unknowingly, to a place they were going to hold an adoption fair. He too, was in love with Plummy. We had nearly 6 great years with her. Since then, we lost both Plummy and Niobe. We were down to two dogs, Hanna & Carter.
My sister was getting a puppy, and off we went to buy all her supplies. When Dave walked in (he’s the chief of police in Kasson and my Dad’s best bud) with that black puppy, with one blue, one brown eye, I thought I would die with envy. It was gorgeous. I wanted one. I wanted one now. Lucky for me, there was a sister who looked just like her. I didn’t even let Dave sit down, we were in the truck and on our way to get this other puppy. Dave, my son Aleck, and my sister all wondered how this would work. Shouldn’t I call Jeri and talk about it. Nope… I knew I wanted her and didn’t care. Really… I am usually much nicer than this, much more considerate. Something drove me to getting this puppy, and it wasn’t Dave… (Que drum and symbol sound) (lame, I know, but I couldn’t resist).
Anyway…. I took one look at that puppy and called her Andie, after my Dad. When I got home that night, Jeri was at work and not due home till morning. When he got home I showed him the puppy telling him it was my sister’s. I was just puppy-sitting. He sat with her in his lap for a few hours and said how cute she was, how sweet. I was glad, it was then I sprang it on him, she’s ours! I’m a lucky woman, my husband is a great guy and this just adds to his list of wonderfulness. He looked at me and said, “shit head.” He looked at Andie and said, “you’re a shit head too, but I’ll keep you both.”
Wow… this is getting long, but I’m almost to the mid-life crisis part.
One day, a friend of ours decides to get rid of her 8 week old Pug puppy. Amanda wanted him. This friend went back and forth with the decision, finally opting to keep it. At this point, Amanda is sad (yes, she’s 18, but a lot like her mother- when she wants it, she wants it, and she’s getting it) and she wants a puppy. So, dog loving Mom that I am, I go online searching for a pug puppy. Long story short, Amanda bought and cares for her dog Odessa (Odes) for short. Amanda is moving soon, and much of the time Odes is with her at her boyfriend’s house.
Now you are up to date and we are at last week. Aleck calls on his way home from school and says he found a puppy, what should he do. I told him to just bring it home and we’ll find the owner. But… no tags. Great. It’s late, the pound is closed, I don’t know who else to call now, and Jeri just walked in the door and said, “get that dog out of here.” I tell him, we will find the owners, don’t worry, not keeping a dog. But as I said, it’s later, so we keep him (that we named Buddy) overnight. We feed him, we love him, he sleeps with us. Next day, we find the owners.
It’s been about 5 days. Now you are to the part where Jeri calls me last night and says, “why did your son (he’s ours) have to bring home that puppy.” Turns out, Jeri has spent the last 5 days not only dwelling about it, but actually now looking for a yellow lab puppy. And THAT, people, is my husband’s mid-life crisis. Not a fancy sports car, not an affair (thank God), but a dog. He wants a dog. This, the man who always blames me for being the animal lover of the family… HE wants a dog. So a-searching I go. Tomorrow morning we are driving 2 1/2 hours one way, down to Iowa, we hate that state…. to see a dog I found on pet finder. Part yellow lab, part blue heeler. It’s 13 weeks old and has been in a shelter and really needs a home. Wish us luck… we’ll need it.

~ by mamadubs on March 3, 2007.

One Response to “My Husband Is Having a Midlife Crisis”

  1. Thank you very much for sharing your thoughts. It is always great pleasure to read your posts.

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