Never Broken
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2023-03-13 17:34:59 (UTC)

The cruelest bitch on earth

My mother has got to be one of the cruelest people I know. As I’m sure I’ve stated before, but in case I didn’t…. She has four dogs, two cats and two horses. The dogs are kennelled, in crates not runs, all day long except for five minutes four times a day they are allowed out to toilet. They never get any human interaction unless they are being yelled at. Sometimes, she even hits them with brooms or other objects. She has two cats she ignores, other than to yell at them when they constantly want her attention. She has two horses that she spends £2000 a month on but does not visit and never rides.

This is not only inappropriate and cruel, but it is also incredibly sad. I cannot deal with it any more. I am sick of seeing her animals in a constant state of arousal because they get no attention. I am sick to death of hearing them bark, bark, bark and meow, meow, meowing because they get no attention and have nothing to do. They are given no toys, have no enrichment activities, nothing to chew on, and whenever they do manage to be destructive through their kennels, the way my mum’s dog did when he ate all my wee one’s food, they are the ones who get the blame.

Now, my mother wants myself and the boys to stay with her permanently, and to be honest, I have thought about it. The problem is that I am so disabled, I need a service dog. My disabilities include:
Dissociative identity disorder
Complex PTSD
Total blindness
Severe chronic pain that limits mobility
And hearing deficits.

IN this chaos, I have my own two dogs. The wee one is a service dog, but his task is very specific, wake me up from night terrors or stop me from dissociating at home. As he’s gotten older though, he sleeps a good bit more and his alerts are becoming less reliable. My big girl does not have what it takes to be a service dog. She is too friendly. I mean, I can take her to church and places like that where I’m basically sitting down, but as a guide dog or PTSD dog, she is damn near useless. She’d run me right out into the middle of the road if she saw a person that might pet her across the street.

I have, for a while now, tried to convince my mother to rehome one, or even two, of her four dogs. Not only would she be happier, but the household would be calmer and the dogs would be happier. She will not. The reason is that no one will take care of them as well as she does. Um, really? Leaving them in a kennel almost 24 hours a day is taking care of them? That’s news to me. She says she can’t let them out because they are wild and have no house manners. Did she ever stop to consider that to learn good manners, one must be taught?

I mentioned that, if she would just be willing to rehome one dog, I’d be happy to stay and I could have my service dog. She claims I don’t need a service dog, that I am safe with her. Why, then, when we went out the other day, and I had a meltdown, was she the only one who didn’t notice? She never tried to reassure me, calm me down, tell me it’s ok and there is no way she couldn’t have noticed I was in trouble, as I was hiding under a table at the vet’s office at the time.

I have been thinking about calling the local dog warden, but now I have to wait on that because I opened my big mouth and said I wouldn’t be surprised if they came for a visit.

I need a service dog in order to have a life. I am afraid to go to the shops, afraid to go to doctors’ offices, afraid to take a walk with or without other people. She doesn’t see it. I am depressed, not quite suicidal, but the day’s still young. I can’t do my job properly. I must work from home. I can’t do site visits without a service dog. I just can’t.

We had a big fight this morning during which she said she had been thinking about something but I’d already made up my mind so she wasn’t going to tell me. I practically begged her to tell me. She refused. I guess I’m supposed to be a mind reader, too.

Not to mention Carrie’s nephew killed himself yesterday and I am burdening her with my shit. What an awful friend I am.

Oh, and did I mention my mother’s a hoarder?

If you pray, send positive energy, or any other good things, I’m asking for you to do that for us now.