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The Adventures of Layce and Jamie

Time for another dogster break?

My mom has been having some hard times at work and we've been handed one stressful situation after another so we turned to dogster for an escape from reality only to have our opinions and comments totally and completely ignored. Might as well not even have come back.

What happened to you, dogster? And what happened to my friends? Surely everyone is deserving of being heard...

- An Unhappy Pommie

Ugh!

Dear Diary,

Oh my DOG! So I realized that I really HATE foster brothers! They are annoying, loud, hyper, and RUDE. I mean HELLO! If you try to play with me and I DON'T try to play back...don't you think you'd get the hint that I don't want to play with you? I mean DOGNESS!

Okay, if any of you are reading, I'm guessing that you are probably really confused. Let me fill ya in. Okay, hhhh let me compose myself. I AM a lady, ya know. Okay, well we have this foster brother named Ty. *trying to keep the malice out of my voice* Anyway, we go outside together and he tries to lick my face. And in an attempt to get away from him I turn in very fast circles. And what does the braindead boy do? Follows me of course. So there we go in fast circles around and around and around and around. So I snarl at him and give him warning bites. It does NOTHING! He thinks I'm trying to play or something. So I run in circles again and the birdbrain follows me again! I mean COME ON take a hint, buddy! Right? So then I run to my mommy and I put on the saddest face that I can, so she can pick me up and get me away from Super Smart over there.

But that's not all. I was sleeping on the couch and he decides he wants to play, so he bounces on top of me and I wake up startled. When I notice it's him I get maaaad. But snarling, nipping, and running doesn't seem to send the message across. What else am I supposed to do?! It's ridiculous! You think a pom would have more sense!

Thanks for listening to my rant! Love you pups!

Layce ♥

Layce, you really have helped me.

Dear Layce,

I promise I'm not going to take over your diary like I did Lilah's. But I have some things I would like to say. I want you, and all your other dogster pals to know just how special you are to me.

It started back in February when I got into the car accident. It was a terrible, terrible experience that I would never want to wish on anyone. Then when I got news that the other man involved had died, something inside me changed. I didn't want to talk about it with my friends, because they didn't understand anyway. I didn't want to talk about it with my mom because she had been the one driving. I had to be the one to comfort her. It was hard to try to be the strong one when all I wanted to do was go into my room and sink into my pillow and never come out. Ever. I didn't have you then.

Ever since that night, I started acting differently. I would get so extremely angry or get into a feeling of self-hatred and depression. I'd start yelling about the most minuscule things, or sometimes I would just get this feeling that I was the most horrific, ugly, messed up person in the world, and my head would spin into a darkness that I'm surprised sometimes I could find my way out of. I didn't understand why I would get so mad or so upset. It bothered me that I would scream and hit things and get into arguments with people I loved about things that should never have escalated. It would depress me even more. It was like it was a whole other person inside me, and sometimes I would bounce right back and be the normal, happy me.

The other day, my doctor's office called to tell me that I had a new doctor, so I should come in for a routine check up to meet the new doctor so we would be acquainted. He came into the room and asked routine questions. I told him about my tension headaches. He asked about stress. I told him that I secluded myself from everything. I started doing school online, I started to stay home on the weekends. My grammy also pointed out my rash behavior. When we further explained, he asked if I had been checked for bipolar disorder. I hadn't. The thought had never crossed my mind. He gave me a questionnaire to fill out and after I did, he told me that it was a 90% chance that that could be my problem. He recommended going to see a psychiatrist in order to diagnose it. I was happy that I finally knew what was wrong and that it wasn't just ME, but I was also a little scared.

But you've been so good to me. Even when I get angry and I say that I don't want you near me. You still come and you put her head under my hand, and I can almost see "It's okay, you're going to be alright." coming straight from your eyes. I can almost hear you say it. Sometimes, I'll pick you up and just cry into your fur, and you let me. You've gotten me out again. I take you places. I know, someday, I'll be ready to go back to school. But not yet. I tell you stories that I remember of my dad sometimes. They think he was bipolar. I wish I had the chance to get to know him better. I almost feel connected to him in a way I never was before. I won't go out the way he did, I refuse. Which is why you've helped me. You've made me want to go on, when all I wanted to do was let go. You are there to show me the love I need so desperately to see sometimes. I love you, Layce. You are my godsend, my guardian angle, my baby, and my best friend. I love you.

Love,
Your mom