Bryce knew the severity of the things going on at home that no one else knew about, therefore he continued to be a source of comfort for me. Meanwhile, my repetitive dreams persisted on a regular schedule, making a habit of not being tardy to the party.
I knew my momma wanted to keep Mazi when I moved out, we had already discussed it. So, Bryce had researched where we could get our own puppy for when we were married. He made the arrangements, and before we knew it, we were meeting up with a man with a litter of just-weened teacup chihuahua puppies.
He had them in one of those heavy-duty plastic storage tubs lined with bedding at the bottom of the bin. We approached the container, immediately smitten with the bobbing up and down of chocolate-covered apple and deer-shaped heads. The chocolate-colored puppies of the litter were so incredibly adorable, they looked exactly like miniature versions of Mazi. But — oddly enough, the miniature Mazi-lookalikes did not grab my attention. Rather, my attention was drawn to the opposite side of the bin where another chihuahua sat, neither chocolate nor appearing to get along with the other members of the litter.
I asked the man about the chihuahua entirely fawn in color, complete with white boots like Mazi, and a white diamond perfectly crested atop her head like some kind of princess tiara. This should have been our first clue. “What’s the deal with this one?” I queried about the odd-one-out — because of course, I did.
“Oh. She’s the mean one… all her brothers and sisters steer clear of her. That’s why they’re all on one side together, and she’s over there perfectly content all by her lonesome.”
“I’ll take her.” I said, nothing more needing to be said about this particular dog to make me fall in love with her — I already was. I knew she was the perfect option for my personality… an extra, heaping serving of sass.
We named her Zoie — and she quickly became more spoiled than we ended up spoiling our nieces and nephews as they were born. One notable outing I recall specifically was when Bryce and I planned a Blockbuster Date Night. Guys and dolls, this is back when you could still go to video rental stores to rent movies to watch together for dates or movie nights in. If they didn’t have it in stock — you just had to wait until it was, buy it yourself, or see if another local store had it in stock. They would even sell snacks for you to eat while you watch the movies, like popcorn microwaved in the giant movie theater-style tubs with movie theater-style butter drenching the freshly popped kernels, boxed and bagged candy you’d find at the concession stand of a movie theater, various types of drinks, things like that.
She ended up going almost everywhere with us, she even had her own “diaper bag” at one point. Keep in mind, she was a teacup chihuahua, no bigger than maybe two to three pounds by this time… she was tiny. This was also back before service animals really became popularized, so those laws weren’t super strict in the areas we lived in, and I would routinely stick her in the pocket on the front of the hoodies I often donned. No one spotted her the entire time we were on the search for a movie to watch until we went to check out, then the cashier spotted her, “Oh, my gosh, that’s a dog!” he blurted out loud.
No, we didn’t get in trouble. He thought she was cute! Which, she was. He wasn’t wrong.
The Blockbuster Video was right up the street from his house, where Zoie stayed with him for the most part. He would bring her with him to pick me up or bring her with him when he would come hang out at my house.
Around this time, my mom and I had Mazi, and I also had Zoie, so my brother was feeling a little left out even though Mazi was technically his, too. To remedy this, my dad got “my brother” a Boston Terrier — also with a severe case of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, much like my brother. What’s worse than a kid with ADHD running around?
I’ll tell you.
A kid with ADHD and his grunting, snorting, highly flatulent dog that also has ADHD… running around with him. You’ll notice I put quotations around my brother when I mentioned my dad getting him the dog, that’s because my dad was usually getting the animals for his own self, and using my brother as the excuse for getting it.
For example, my dad became interested in naked hairless rats, so “my brother” ended up with a pair of them. My dad became interested in hermit crabs, so once more, “my brother” got some hermit crabs. Then at one point, my mom had a friend at work giving away her sugar glider, so we had it for a while. It did not like being handled… at least by any of us. It warmed up to its next owner immediately… so it all worked out. I wanted a fish tank, so I saved up to get one — and when I did, I always kept it spotless. I wanted hamsters and pet mice, so I saved up and got them — keeping their enclosure immaculate at all times.
Keep in mind what I said earlier about always doing my chores around the house, this included cleaning up after Mazi and Zoie on the rare occasion they had an accident in the house. Mazi was the family dog. Zoie was mine. We had a few fosters here and there, but my dad wanted a Boston Terrier. So with that, “my brother” got one, and poetically named him Beano — courtesy of his flatulence and mammoth poops. My mom and I picked up after all the dogs, sometimes including Beano when my brother was unable to.
Mazi was potty-trained, we got her potty-trained while living with my grandparents not long after we got her. Sure, she would have a few accidents here and there when we weren’t home to let her outside… but that was very few and far between for that to happen.
When Zoie would stay over at the house with me from time to time, she would have some accidents here and there, she was still a puppy, after all. Well, my brother’s dog, who was about two-and-a-half to three times bigger than Zoie… was never fully potty-trained, and his turds took the cake as far as size comparison.
My dad would not only throw a fit if Mazi or Zoie’s small poop was left not picked up for what he deemed a second too long — but Beano’s monstrous size poops… forget it.
My dad agreed with my mom ahead of time, to assure her the dog would be looked after properly, and they got the dog.
My mom didn’t believe him despite him agreeing ahead of time, because she had been through all this with him before, but they still got the dog.
Even though she was later proven right, they got the dog.
I was nineteen years old by this time, still living at home but had numerous boxes packed up as I was also planning my wedding and in the process of moving out. You’re probably wondering why I don’t just wait until I get married to move in with Bryce, or just move in with Bryce, period. Because at this time, Bryce was living with his parents so that he could also save up for anything we needed pre-wedding, my mom wanted me to continue living with them until the actual wedding, and because I knew my pastor, who I wanted to officiate the wedding, would likely disapprove of me living with Bryce before we were officially married.
After everything, I think it’s probably more obvious now more than ever that I was getting real tired of my dad finding every single opportunity to nitpick every single thing I did or didn’t do. This was when enough was finally enough for me, and I stood up for myself.
It didn’t go well.
Not… at… all.
I’m gonna offer another trigger warning here.
I’m honestly not sure what kind of warning to issue… I’m unsure what kind of warning would even apply, but I’ll put it here, nonetheless.
With that, we are moving along.
Bryce was over one night planning our wedding when my dad decided he wanted to assert that he still had power over me, only he didn’t.
“You need to start *bleepin’* cleaning that *bleep* up after those *bleepin’* dogs,” he cursed every which way in addition to throwing my name in there — for good measure.
I won’t lie, this is about the time I lost my shit, at least on the interior, given everything I’ve already told you regarding that whole ordeal. But I kept my exterior composure, bit my tongue, and simply replied that it was Beano’s mess, not Mazi or Zoie’s, and that I had been staying on top of cleaning up after Beano whenever my brother was unable to, as well as my dogs’. I slowly rose to my feet and began walking away from the situation to allow it to diffuse a little, when my dad demanded to know where I was going. “Just where do you think you’re going?!” He shouted.
“To my room,” I replied matter-of-factly.
“I wasn’t done talking to you!” He yelled as I made my way halfway through the kitchen, which was open to the family room, so I could still hear him loud and clear.
“Yeah, but I’m not doing this tonight,” I responded, making it clear that I wasn’t willing to put up with his nonsense that night like I usually did every other night. Keep in mind, I’m only living at home mostly because my mom insisted — so I did it for her. Even though I was a legal adult, engaged to be married, planning a wedding, and moving out within just a matter of months — he wanted to make sure he got control over me during those brief matter of months. He had been doing this kind of thing every single day that went by, finding the smallest, tiniest, littlest things to complain and gripe at me about.
“Excuse you?! Get back here, right now!” He yelled at the top of his lungs.
I wasn’t having it, replying with a simple, “I’m not in the mood for this tonight.”
That was it. Within the next half hour, things were elevated to a level they did not need to get elevated to. “Get the bleep out of my house — get the bleep out of my house right now,” he yelled, only he used words that began with the letter F in the place of the bleeps, and was now reaching a volume I didn’t even know him capable of. And this is a man who has an impressive resumé of reaching loud volumes while yelling in his extensive history of majoring in the skill.
I could hear my mom intervening as he yelled to get out of his house, making sure he knew she was not okay with the series of events that had just unraveled and continued to unfold before her very eyes.
Bryce was still there, making a point to run after me while I made my way to my room to comfort me, as he was present for the whole exchange. He immediately followed me and embraced me, consoling me and telling me that I could come home with him, even if just for the evening. This would give everything a chance to de-escalate, as well as give my dad and me both time to cool off a bit.
I packed an overnight bag, and grabbed Zoie, my car keys and my cell phone before making my way down the stairs and out to my car. When my parents heard me get to the front door and begin opening it, my dad shouted, “Where are you going?”
“You told me to get out of your house, remember?” I shouted back, before promptly going out to my car and leaving with Bryce following close behind to head towards his house.
I could hear my mom starting to panic as I was leaving — ripping my dad a new one telling him that he was way out of line and needed to make it right. By this time, I was already on the main highway on my way to Bryce’s house for the night, and had already been crying so heavy, I could barely see two feet in front of me from blurred tears filling my eyes to their maximum capacity. So, my mom called and told me to go ahead and stay the night at Bryce’s for the evening, but she wanted me to come back home the next night to smooth things over between my dad and me.
It didn’t happen… at least, not how she wanted it to happen.
Things got so much worse.
You can’t make this stuff up.
Well, you technically could, I guess — but why the hell would you want to?
