My oldest daughter is here for the Thanksgiving weekend, and yesterday she joined her younger brother and sister as they made their "children of divorce" round of visits. At the end of the day, the all ended up with me at my sister's house - a scene that warms our hearts, all of our kids, eight cousins together in one place.
Laughing.
Joking.
Telling the legendary family stories.
and of course, overeating.
This morning, we reminisced about our family holidays after watching a piece on the Today Show about family feuds that come to a boil at the holidays. My daughter looked at me and said, "but we aren't like that."
No, we aren't. And it isn't because there hasn't been our share of trauma and disagreements. It's just that, after losing our parents in 1988, my sisters and have made a silent and solemn agreement that we would do our best to stick together and raise our children to be close with each other. So far, we've been lucky to spend many many pleasant holidays together. And for that, I am truly thankful.
Of course, that doesn't mean I'm not dealing with someone's emotional trauma this Thanksgiving. Only this trauma involves a pair of dogs - mine and my daughter's.
My dog, Zelda, has had her adventures, fears and phobias well documented here. Most recently I've been trying to reduce her aggressiveness toward other animals, squirrels, cats and dogs. I haven't been very successful.
My daughter recently adopted a dog who has his own set of phobias - darkness, noises and being left alone. Why my daughter and I ever thought these two emotionally unstable dogs would get along is beyond me.
Needless to say, their first meeting quickly turned into a snarling barkfest. We were stumped as to how these two dogs could spend a weekend together. The only thing we could do was keep them apart - no small feat in my tiny house.
Zelda spent last night at the end of her leash, at the foot of my bed, with the door barricaded. Today, we used some baby gates to create a kind of DMZ between the dogs, and because Zelda could vault this obstacle with no problem, she was also restrained with leashes. Barkfests were broken up with the dreaded water bottle - a spray of water in the snout goes a long way toward distracting a barking dog.
Then, my daughter and I got the idea to take the dogs for a walk. We figured that we would probably have to walk on opposite sides of the street, maybe opposite sides of the town, but amazingly, the two dogs walked side by side like old pals. They both shied away from cars, got distracted by squirrels and trotted like showdogs in the ring.
We thought it was a breakthrough - maybe in sharing their fear of noise, distraction and the outside world, they had bonded. We brought them back in the house together convince they would now be buddies.
Right now, my daughter's dog is spending time in solitary confinement in my bedroom, where Zelda spent the afternoon after the walk. The minute we got in the door, the dogs went after each other like mortal enemies. So, they each have to take turns in solitary, while the other dog gets the run of the house. In a few hours I'll switch them, making sure that each one is on either side of the babygate DMZ when I make the switch.
Yes, these family gatherings at the holidays are stressful indeed.
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