I have learned that my relationship with my dogs is much like my real life relationships. For example, my puppy, appropriately named Romeo, wakes up all cuddly and snuggly in the morning. Typical guy, no? And within the span of a few minutes they can go from loving on you to peeing your foot. It is that simple. Even though they have been one expensive lesson after another, the most recent one taught me the biggest lesson.

For the past two years I have worn a hearing aid to compensate for moderate hearing loss in one ear. Yes, just one more thing I fall into the category of "too young to have." There is an operation that can fix it, but only temporarily, so the doctor suggested I wait until it is more severe before considering it. Anyway, I have a system of placing my hearing aid in one of two places when I take it off in the evening. No exceptions. Otherwise I would lose it or forget it the next morning.

Yes astute readers, you see where I am going with this, don't you?

So one day I can't find my hearing aid and after searching for quite sometime, decided it was better to get to work on time and half-deaf rather than late and fully hearing. On the way to work I surmise that I must have started to doze off while watching TV and took the hearing aid off and put it in my pocket. I quickly called my sister and asked her to check my hamper when she went over to my house at lunch to let the dogs out for awhile (Great sister, isn't she? Not only does she let my dogs out, she also is willing to go through my dirty clothes hamper). In return I received a photo sent to my cell phone of a small flesh-colored piece of plastic and a tiny gold hearing aid battery (she's also quite a detective). Hmmm. . .

Upon further detective work that I won't describe, we determined that indeed Romeo was the culprit. I considered the possibility of seeing if the fractured remains were still operational, but I was afraid I still wouldn’t be able to hear crap (ba-da-bum). Quite the expensive lesson. After ordering a new hearing aid ($1,000 later), I noticed that something was wrong with Romeo. He would wince when picked up and he wasn't his usual jumpy, hyper self. Oh no! Was it the hearing aid? Was it something else? Off to the vet for x-rays, treatment, prescriptions, etc.

Good news and bad news. One piece was still in there, but it looked as though it was safely moving through the system. He also injured his paw and/or neck likely while engaged in rough play with his momma, but no broken bones. So after fluids, pain injections, and anti-inflammatories, we returned home just in time for the remaining piece to safely leave his system (almost as quickly as the cash left my pocket).


As frustrating, maddening, and expensive as the whole process was, I could hardly wait to get home and play with him. I'm convinced it's my most abusive relationship to date. But who could resist this?