Bad Habits Confessions of a Recovering Catholic by Jenny McCarthy

Author:Jenny McCarthy
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

18

Can Someone Kill Our Dog, Please?

Our family dog was named Pickles. She was a mutt with scraggly black hair. If Pickles were a person, she would totally be Janeane Garofalo.

Living in a house with four little girls, Pickles had to endure getting dressed up in gowns and wigs for years. We loved her and treated her like a fifth sister.

When I was about ten years old, I was getting ready for school one morning when I noticed Pickles pushing like she was trying to poop. I stood there in shock because Pickles never pooped in the house.

“Mom, Mom, something is wrong with Pickles. It looks like she is trying to poop, but nothing is coming out.”

My mom ran over and started yelling for my dad. “Dan, come here. I think something is wrong with Pickles.”

My dad and all my sisters joined in to watch Pickles bear down.

Suddenly a black blob came out of her and hit the floor. The blob had legs! Pickles was giving birth! I was amazed and disgusted at the same time.

We all stood there not really knowing what to do. Within fifteen minutes, there were three blobs on the floor that came to life. Pickles continued to bear down and push, and we were all waiting for the fourth blob, but it never came.

After giving birth, Pickles started looking weak, and my mom and dad took her to the hospital. She had a dead, deformed puppy inside her that she couldn’t deliver. They removed the pup and brought Pickles back home to care for her litter.

It’s a beautiful thing to watch animals care for their pups. Without words, their energy and attention radiate love.

In the months that followed, we watched people come over and adopt all of Pickles’s babies. I wondered how Pickles didn’t get upset that people were stealing her babies. Another amazing thing about animals, I guess.

Our family had no idea how old Pickles actually was because my dad had found her on the side of the road with rubber bands around her snout and rescued her. But while I was in high school, Pickles started to slow down. She wouldn’t chase down birds anymore, her hair started to get wiry, and, by my senior year, she started to stink.

My whole family ignored the fact that Pickles was getting older. There was no way we would ever think about putting her down. But after a couple more years, Pickles had tumors all over her body. When I pet her, my hand would go up and down because of all the bumps. It was obvious she had cancer and there was nothing we could do about it. Pickles started to live behind our couch. She wouldn’t move from there. All we would see was her little tail sticking out. Then she no longer had the ability to control her bowels.

People would come over, sit down in our living room, and say, “You know it reeks of pee in here.” We all kind of knew it but ignored it because solving the problem would mean putting down our beloved dog.

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