Thanks for the support, Jemma and Emma (ahh, I do like Rhymes).
I started to move some of my belongings last night. I felt free as I drove along Beach Road towards the place I will now call home… But, as I got closer, it sunk in that this is for real. Once I move out there is no going back.
I’m really worried.
After one of my sisters’ episodes (the BIG one) I thought to myself, this is her rock bottom, surely… Feeling somewhat relieved that after reaching this low point, she’d realise her wrong-doings and actually do what she needs to be doing (looking after her children etc)… But no, she hasn’t and I’m wondering if she ever will. And if that wasn’t rock-bottom, than I fear for what rock-bottom is like. I really do.
You saw the pictures of the beautiful puppy we have… Well, I have been trying to distance myself from him and his sweet puppy dog eyes, as the more time I spend with him, the more in love I become… and the more attached we both are. This morning, and other mornings too, but this morning especially upset me… I went into his jail area, to find the whole floor slippery wet with wee… his water bowl empty and no food. I fill it up and his food bowl too… Who knows when she’ll be back. I clean the floor so at least it isn’t wet so he won’t slip over, which as anyone with experience with German Shepherds would know is like begging for hip injury, not to mention just how disgusting and unfair it is. I am already late for work, as I have been every morning since we got the puppy, cos unlike her I can’t walk away and leave him in that mess and with no food or at the least water. I did the same thing last night… When, she went upstairs, I finally felt as though I could be downstairs (lately I have been going straight up to my room)but I was faced with a wet with wee floor, which I had to mop and a poor little puppy basically covered in his own wee.
It’s just f*cked.
As of tomorrow I won’t be living at that house anymore. My furniture gets moved out tomorrow and I will no longer have a bed there… I think I have to tell my dad… It is technically his dog, although my sister clearly got him with the intention of being able to parade him around as her own, yet not take care of him. I will ask my dad if I can take the puppy with me… At least I will take care of him. My sister moans about all the things she has to do… Yet she does NOTHING. I’m in shock and so angry. And helpless because I am work, and she’s off enjoying herself, while the puppy is in prison and swimming in his own wee.