Not fun (and a paean to the GSD)

I've been trying (not very successfully, I realize) to keep this focused on knitting, the garden, and the Ts--with a little music and reading thrown in. This is heavy, so be warned and stop now if you're not interested or not in the mood.

Friday my therapist suggested I consider re-homing one or both of the Ts, as a way to help with the financial problem, which is serious.

Well, she's right--they cost a lot. I don't (and won't) feed them grocery store food, so I order for them online. Shipping 40 pounds of dogfood isn't cheap. Neither are heartworm meds, and my vet refuses to write a prescription so I can get it from a discount place. I have managed to talk her into a three-year-schedule of shots, but it's still shots for 2 50+ pound dogs. That's the basic stuff; I've virtually cut out all toys and treats.

And I grant you, it's conceivable that they might do better in other homes--Timber with an active young family who would include him in on everything and Taenzer in an agility or freestyle home.

But I'm one of those people who thinks an animal is for life. I made a commitment to them when I brought them home. I love them. They make my life liveable. Wthout them I think I'd lie down and never get up.

And how the hell would I choose? How could I choose one over the other? How could I look at myself in the mirror in the morning? How could I ever look at one without feeling guilty about the other one? (The movie Sophie's Choice tore me up.)

I guess I'm going to investigate e-bay. Ebay isn't the friendly little amateur community it once was, and its new incarnation scares me. But I have things to sell people might want:

*books
*magazines
*vintage handmade aprons (1950s)
*vintage handkerchiefs with hand crochet, tatting, and embroidery (1930s mostly)
*vintage jewelry (1930s and 40s)
*retro (1980s) costume jewelry
*makeup (I think--can you sell it if you brought it home, took it out of the package, tried it once and realized it wasn't your color at all? lipstick, foundation, and eye shadow)
*odds and ends, like the ugliest Mr. Data mug you ever saw
*Maybe some shoes and clothes--I'm not sure--I'm pretty hard on both, and nothing may be saleable
*LPs (maybe - I'd have to find a turntable and see what condition they were in)
*cassette tapes

Probably some other stuff I can't think of right now. I've got to get a good book about selling on e-bay--the tutorial stuff on e-bay is all video, not at all helpful if you've got a dial-up connection.

There are some other things I could do to save a few dollars here and there, but what prompted her suggestion was my mentioning I could have gotten a used but well-maintained doublewide in what's probably the nicest trailer park in town--very quiet, family-oriented, everyone seems to grow flowers and spiff up the area around their mobile homes, it's out near the edge of town, lots of trees and hayfields, and space; they're not crowded right up against each other. I could have got it at an extremely affordable price and, provided I could have sold my current house, I'd probably also have been able to pay off my credit card bills. Nice clean new start. But the park doesn't accept big dogs. Well, they might accept a nice quiet middle-aged golden retriever, but two wild and crazy Ts were out of the question--not to mention that there would be no place for them to run. Her eyes just lit up when I told her about it. It would solve one of my most pressing problems. So she asked if I would consider giving up the Ts. I could always get another dog, a smaller dog.

But there's that question of betraying their trust. That question of being able to live with myself. And peer pressure: in the online dog communities I frequent, the only acceptable reason for re-homing a dog is imminent death. There's a guy on the GSD list who's been homeless for a couple of years, but somehow he's hung onto his four GSDs. How could any good breeder trust me with a dog again? How could any good rescue group trust me with a dog again?

And you know, dog people are funny. Like horse people, or cat people, they talk about "my breed." They have strong breed preferences. My dog breed is German Shepherds. I guess you could even say part of my identity is tied up with having GSDs. They suit me. They're big enough to hug without worrying about their eyes popping out, but they're not huge. They're smart and trainable, but they think for themselves. They don't cling. The ones with standard coats are pretty easy-care--burs slide out with your fingers, mud brushes right off, you don't have to bathe them every week or spend hours grooming them or take them in to the groomer every month for a haircut. They're a handsome dog, and can be very striking. A well-bred GSD has "a certain aloofness that does not lend itself to immediate and indiscriminate friendships. The dog must be approachable, quietly standing its ground and showing confidence and willingness to meet overtures without itself making them. " I *like* that aspect of them. There's another saying about GSDs: They're not the best at anything, but they're 2nd best at everything. I like that kind of versatility. They can go all day if you can, and if you can't, they're content to lie around and keep an eye on you; they don't bounce off the walls or get neurotic if they don't have something to do. And I feel safe with a GSD. Even with a couple of goofballs like the Ts, they have a certain built-in bad-guy-deterrance factor. I appreciate the good qualities of other breeds, but for me the perfect dog is a good GSD. (and yes, I've had other breeds and several mixed-breeds, as well as considerable contact with a number of other breeds, so I do have some basis for comparison)

So that's my story for tonight. Just what I need, another source of stress in my life. I should. I shouldn't. I can't. They might be better off. I need them. I've been hugging them and crying over them at intervals all day, and because they're GSDs, they've been very patient with their silly mommy. Taenzer licks my face and tells me not to cry, it'll be all right. Timber gives me worried looks and brings me his ball.

How could I?