Getting to Know Me

Hey! It’s Zoey! Mom is at the gym and Dad (who also works from home) is on a phone call in his office. Usually I love curling up under his desk on my bed and listening to him talk about his computer stuff. I don’t really get what he’s talking about, but I feel the closest to him then.

His door is closed, so I have a chance to write a quick blog. You may be trying to get a visual of how I type. I have very long nails. I can tap those words out very quickly. Check out my photo. Sorry it’s blurry. Dakota took it. Who’s that you ask? Well I’m not quite ready to talk about him, but I will tell you that he was found in a dumpster in Tennessee.

ImageI want to talk about my life before it was abruptly interrupted by the appearance of you know who. It seems as though my life has been a series of mini-traumas that quite frankly have left me a bit anxiety ridden.

I don’t remember if it was my first spring or summer with my family. I do know that it was warm out and Stephen and I loved playing tug of war. I’d chase him around the yard or play catch. It was spectacular being able to run free and have someone to play with. One day Stephen had two friends over who shall remain nameless. All three of them love to play soccer so they were outside kicking the ball around and into the goal. So that I wouldn’t run away or get hit by a car, my mom tied me to a tree that was close to the goal. Well boys will be boys and they play pretty tough and kick the ball hard. I was sniffing around the tree when WHAM! The ball slammed me into the tree. I was so scared, I may have pooped a little.

The boys were very upset and brought me into my mom. She checked to make sure I was all right and then kept me inside. But the damage was done. I was traumatized. Now every time a ball comes my way, I run. I am so afraid that it will hit me again. I know I should try and catch it with my paws, but what if I get hit again? What if one of my bones get broken? I’m so much bigger than a soccer ball now, but the fear of getting hit is bigger than me.

My mom feels bad and as much as I try, I know I will never be that man’s best friend who jumps up and catches a frisbee or retrieves a slimy ball over and over and over again. It makes me sad sometimes.

I still love to run around the yard as fast as I can though. I’m pretty agile and can change directions very quickly, which believe me helps when it comes to Dakota. Sometimes I think he’s that soccer ball reincarnated. Always out to get me.

I know I must face my fear, but I don’t know how to start. What fears do you have? How did you over them? I could use some advice. Thanks for visiting!

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