Carry On

Maus and I will not be reaching our goal of ten hikes by the end of 2013.

Oh, I probably could have crammed in the last three hikes in the month or so when I realized that it was getting down to crunch time. We were cruising along pretty well, and three hikes is not a lot. But then, just as we were getting close to reaching our goal, the world ran out of clomipramine.

And Maus is miserable.

Clomipramine is the chemical that holds Maus's brain together. Without it, he's started growling at people again. He hides in the other room so people (and other dogs) won't feel tempted to touch him. He doesn't want to leave the house. Watching him interact with people makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. He has happy tail. I call it "happy tail" because there's not actually a term for my-dog-is-so-neutoric-that-he-chewed-through-the-end-of-his-tail-and-now-it-won't-heal-because-I-won't-put-a-cone-on-him-because-I'm-pretty-sure-that-putting-a-cone-on-him-is-the-only-way-I-could-possibly-make-him-more-miserable-than-he-already-is. Tail.

Clomipramine is suppose to open their plant again at the end of January, and once they do, we should have a steady supply of happy pills again. In the meantime, Maus will be curled up on the couch, stuck inside his own head. He and I will not be going anywhere, let alone hiking. The point of our ten hikes goal was to do something together that we both enjoyed. It's not worth it to me to make my dog even more miserable just so we can accomplish an arbitrary, unimportant goal. Maus does not enjoy hiking anymore, so we will pick it up again when he is feeling better.

In the meantime, we will batten the hatches, close the blinds, and hide in our blanket fort until this storm passes once again.

Photo by Paige.