I get asked all the time, what breed Flipflop is. “He’s a Potcake” I say, and then 95% of the time I get asked “a what?” So, I explain where the term Potcake comes from and that Flipflop is a street pup from Bahamas. From there, people either lose interest in him, or comment how cool that is or worse say “he’s good looking for a mutt.” WTF…………I hate that, I almost as much as people who say they can’t foster as they would get attached.
Some people are also unsatisfied with hearing he’s a mixed breed and me not knowing what MIX he is. Well, I know he’s got a ton of terrier in him, as that’s his dominate behaviour, maybe some Rottweiler as his eyes are very rotti like. The truth is, I don’t care what he is, he’s my baby.
He rescued me, and I know we often say our dogs rescue us, and I don’t disagree, Dupont helped me through losing someone very important to me to heroin and got me out of bed on days when my depression was so bad, I felt there was no reason. But he was my reason.
And now that reason has passed down to Flipflop. Flipflop was there when I lost Dupont, the love of my life, and he gave me reason to get out of bed. He gives me reason every day.
I have anxiety and depression, I’ve been on medication for more than half my life, it’s not something I share with a lot of people and hesitated putting in this blog, but its party of my journey in this life and a huge reason why my dogs are my everything. I truly believe I would not be here if not for the love the dogs in my life, past and present.
Last night, I was horribly depressed, it hit me out of the blue and I wanted to drop off the face of the earth. A feeling I know many of my friends have felt. I know in my head, it’s not real, these feelings, I know it’s my illness, my life is good, I have friends who love me, I live in paradise (at lease my version of paradise) and there really is no reason for me to have felt that way. But even as I tell myself there is no reason to feel this way, the feelings don’t go away.
I often laugh at those posts on social media, so many people put them out there, “talk to me”, “I’m listening”……A person I care very much about, tried to take their life about a month ago, fortunately they were found in time and going through their treatment plan. But someone said to me, “I told her I’m always here, she can talk to me, and I told her you are there for her too. I told her, Joan cares about you and would never judge, you can talk to her if you don’t want to talk to me.” It’s true, I do care for this person and I never judge anyone, but I also know talking to someone is the last thing I want to do when I’m depressed.
I had a conversation with my doctor about three months before I left for B.C. I was feeling great at the time, but told her I had an episode, much like the one I had last night, but this one lasted a few days. She asked me why I didn’t come see her, and I looked at her and said “why? you can’t do anything to help when I’m feeling that way.”
And unfortunately, I truly feel that way, at least in my situation, that no amount of people, talking, love, friends, etc. can help me. I don’t want to talk to anyone, I don’t care to talk to anyone, I just want to vanish from the world. But I don’t, I don’t because, in my case, I always have a dog (now two of them!).
When I want to vanish into thin air, the love for my dogs always keeps me here. Flipflop, who doesn’t care about his mom’s mental state, demands his belly be pet, and trust me when I’m down I get totally frustrated with it as I just want to be left alone. But he doesn’t care, and he loves me no matter how broken I am.
I am so undeserving of my dogs. And although Flipflop may be “just” a mutt, to so many dog snobs out there, and under appreciated for his insane personality. To me, just like his brother before him, he is my world. He saves me just by being my dog. He saved me by JUST being a mutt!