By Janet J. Seahorn, Ph.D.

 

Recently I bought a WMD (Weapon of Mass Destruction).  It was something Tony and I have discussed and thought about for a very long time.  Getting a hold of a WMD can be expensive and usually requires some research about the seller, type, even color.  There are days I question my decision as well as my sanity.  Was this choice a wise move or one made in a moment of weakness or total impulsiveness?

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My home has been transformed into a combat zone.  I can’t leave for even a few minutes or the destruction could be massive.  This weapon can’t be left alone for any length of time.  It must stay in a secure and yet environmentally comfortable space.  Neighbors and friends sometimes stop over just to get a peek at it.  Some admire it and others are afraid to get too close just in case it might detonate itself. Some may also wonder why I would get such an item at my age and stage in life.  There are days I ask myself the same question; other times I merely feel bad that they don’t possess such a handsome and amazing weapon.

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The weapon often gives me a sense of comfort just to know it is there, to touch it, to think about its remarkable potential. I may have failed to mention that even though my WMD is pretty wonderful it was and is not inexpensive. Proper nutrition, check-ups to make sure it is in tip top working condition, enough exposure to clean air, etc.   Trooper, Tony’s service dog often wonders why we ever brought such an item into our peaceful home.  He wants to know if and when we might take it back. You see, Trooper has to watch it very carefully just in case it explodes as it frequently does at any unexpected moment.  He never had to put up with such an object even when he was being raised in prison and his training never included how to deactivate such a WMP.

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By now you may be guessing what I’m talking about, or you may know exactly what I’m describing. It has four-legs, a silky black coat, incredibly sharp baby teeth that can shred a stuffed toy or slipper in a matter of minutes. This four-legged, miniature tornado has wallpapered my front room with toilet paper reminding me of the shenanigans we did in high school when we toilet papered friends’ trees leaving them to clean up after our mess.  Maybe he is retribution for my younger days.  Even with all of these challenges this WMP is so friggin adorable especially when he is asleep.  We even gave him a name, Brody… short for brother.

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It is fascinating how we can so totally love this destructive little ####.  Tony sometimes asks why Trooper is such a super sweet, well-behaved young man. I remind him Trooper was raised in prison where there weren’t a lot of opportunities for a puppy to get into trouble. There were no kitchen counters with food where he could have managed to remove the yummy contents.  Probably there weren’t many smelly slippers to destroy, and if you misbehave there may have been bigger consequences.  WOW…. Maybe I can send Brody to jail for at least a year of training. Confinement might not be as exciting for him, but it would give us a much needed rest.  Trooper is extremely in favor of this idea.

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