Why mommy, Why?: My Co-dependence with the Dog

For a couple of weeks, the staff at the Paw Palace was telling me that Bacon had a hot spot and that it was breaking open. I didn’t know what a hot spot was, but I did what I usually do when teachers tell me my kids have a behavioral issue. I ignored it and hoped it would resolve. Then, I saw it because it was bleeding. OMG. WTF? I was so excited that we got his bowel movements under control that I thought we were home free. Now this?
Three visits to the vet and a phone call later (The man is thinking of getting a restraining order against me. I try not to act too excited to see him again.) he makes it clear to me that I have a pet with chronic allergies. Bacon has been on 3 medications, and I am chasing him around putting salve and cream on him. This is all foreign to me as I typically believe in tough love. Give ’em a hug and tell them they’ll live. All done. With the dog, though, I have to examine the sore obsessively, and I am assuring “mommy’s precious angel” that we will make this go away. The vet recommended the cone of shame, but I refused. Not my Bacon. I promptly went out and bought him a Zen pillow that cost twice as much as the cone (an inflatable pillow that is more comfortable to prevent scratching). After 3 days, it was obvious that the Zen pillow was a waste. He was so comfortable that he could scratch his sore without a problem.

So, I preach boundaries and to avoid co-dependence to everyone. I usually live by it as code, but I feel helpless with Bacon. Is there something wrong that I am more sympathetic to the dog than human beings? There is something about the look Bacon gives me that makes me want to be codependent. I can read his mind, “Why, mommy, do you keep taking me to that bad place — where the evil man cut off my nads and touches me in ways that make me feel dirty? Why do I have to wear this terrible think around my head? Why are you doing this to me? Don’t you love me anymore? Can’t you just go back to watching me poop?” I feel the need to save him because I know he can’t help himself. Now, when I was growing up, the dogs were outside, and it was sink or swim. They did fine. Why is Bacon so soft? I have a strong feeling that it is because his mother is codependent. I want to save him. Let this be a lesson that this is EXACTLY how it works with human beings. We tell ourselves that others need us — can’t live or do well without us. We create the doomsday scenarios that make it impossible to sleep unless we swoop in to save the day. We make the other person unable through enabling behaviors.
The vet got me to agree to the cone of shame for a week, although I still cheat. He went to daycare today without it and broke open his sore. I’ve vowed to do better. The vet told me that Bacon may have this allergy for his lifetime. Just when I was starting to get my kids independent enough to manage their own needs, I have come to grips that my neediest child, my most expensive child will never outgrow me. His eyes are fixed on me constantly with the look of “why mommy, why?”. MOMF!

