The dog days of vacation

I never knew that a 12-pound chiweenie could hold me down.

No — even though she spends most of her waking time sitting in my lap or standing on my chest staring into my eyes and trying to telepathically get me to give her everything she could possibly wish — it’s not a physical obstacle.

It’s a matter of responsibility.

Who is going to take care of this little monster when we escape the summer hell of Phoenix?

The answer is never easy. We didn’t consider this shit when we plucked her out of a “rescue” in the middle of a pandemic.

We are lucky to have options. But each option has its price.

The Boy’s house of hunger and anxiety

We could leave her with the Boy and his smarty-pants wife and their little gang leader of a mini-Doberman.

But between the mini-Doberman and the one-year-old baby, it’s Lord of the Flies to see if Carol Baskins survives.

Especially at meal time. That baby drops food with one hand or heavy plastic bottles filled with liquid in the other… then she throws her head back and laughs her maniacal laugh. (Think Chuckie with a cute face). It doesn’t matter whether the dogs steal a meal or get bonked in the head. The laugh is exactly the same.

Carol is simultaneously scared to death that the little baby is going to give her brain damage and/or fears missing out on flying human food. (FOMO-FHF)

Carol darts in to fight over the scraps with her bigger “niece” and runs away at every giggle.

Every time we leave her with the Boy, the dog comes back skinnier and even more skittish — like a marathon runner with paranoid delusions.

I’m not sure how many of our vacations her little heart can take.

Stuffing the Schnauzer

Or we could drop her at her boyfriend’s house. Milton the Schnauzer (and his family) love Carol. Right next to the couch is a large assortment of plastic bags full of duck bacon, beef sticks and lamb nibbles… Rib bones are hidden under or behind every piece of furniture. There are 3 or 4 adults in the house who seem to live to feed our chiweenie.

A short weekend usually means Carol adds 10 percent of her body weight. A week and she tips the scale to “obese.” Milton is one of those animals that can eat all he wants and not gain weight. Fucking lucky little nazi dog. (Ok he’s probably not a fascist, but those Schnauzers definitely call the “fatherland” home.)

I’m afraid if we leave her there too long, Carol may never want to come home.

Perfect solution

Last year in the Phoenix airport we met a couple with a “perfect solution.”

Our flight was delayed, so we got a drink at the bar. Sitting next to us was a couple with an empty bottle of wine.

While they were half in the bag they showed us their dog. We thought it would be pictures on a phone. Instead it was a 10-pound mutt, quietly sitting all the way in her “bag.”

“She fits under the seat and rarely comes out.”

We had no idea the dog was even there.

Carol cries and whines in the car. She’s not going to sneak on a plane…

The dog in a bag won’t work for us, but we decided it’s a damn good idea to get past security and chug a bottle of wine before getting on the plane. We have been doing it ever since.

Boutique boarding

For the latest trip to Italy we tried something new: boutique boarding with “Brandy” (East Valley K9.com — if you must know) who runs Carol’s dog therapy and agility classes.

The dog gets a 35 square foot room, 24/7 access to a TV, several trips a day out to the acre lot and at least an hour a day of “Carol” time.

“Most dogs want to move around outside or get the zoomies,” Brandy said. “Carol peed as fast as she could and jumped on us to aggressively cuddle for as long as possible.”

I know exactly what aggressive cuddling feels like.

That’s how she greets me every time I leave the house for more than 5 minutes.

As we crossed back and forth over the Apennine mountains in Italy, Brandy and crew were filling our phone with pictures of aggressive cuddles.

After two weeks, Carol came back thinner. Almost skinny. But hitting the weight the vets want to see.

She was happy to see us and no visible signs of PTSD.

Maybe we have found the best way to off load weeks of this responsibility without killing any of us with anxiety.