At 6 a.m. an antipsychotic and a frightened dog

Gunther is a good, though immature, sort.

March 31, 2016

I took the aripiprazole my psychiatrist prescribed.  First time I’ve taken any antipsychotic medicine.  But gee!  The voice in my head has shut up, for once.

I’m thinking, ‘Hey!  Maybe hearing a constant voice is not normal!’   I won’t miss it.  It called me names, like ‘asshole.’  So far, the only bad thing is that the aripiprazole makes me feel peculiar;  like I need to stretch and yawn.  More a nuisance than a trouble, and perhaps the odd yawny feeling will abate.  Oh yes, and I find myself craving food, potentially a bad thing.  Although before, I had such a poor appetite I sometimes skipped every meal.

This morning, about six or so, Gunther and I started on his constitutional walk.  I say “started” because he became so frightened, he refused to take a step.  I mean if I pulled his harness, his toenails would make lines on the walk.  At first I let him turn and hurry back to our door.

But wait.  We were both dressed for action and he always poops, first thing in the morning.  And pees.  We had to see this through.

We start again and after half dozen steps he freezes.  What is he afraid of?  We stop and I look around.  First Interstate Bank looms large.  I get kind of angry.  Hurt my feelings that the bank is so important to him.

I din’t punish Gunther.  I never do.  Okay, I did flick him on the head once, kind of hard, with my finger, when he kept biting my foot.  Otherwise, I avoid getting physical that way.  I don’t want him to be afraid of me.  On the other hand I got pissed when his youthful imagination became more important to him than I am.

I’m all, “What the fuck, Gunther?”

Then I gently lifted him and carried him a hundred feet down the walk.  No, I mean it.  Gently.   (He weighed just 16 pounds the other day.)  I spoke in soothing tones.  I reminded him that he is my dog, that we are both in it for the long haul.  That he and I can walk through dangerous places without our freezing up like scared kids.

I gently set him down.  He still wouldn’t go, so I crouched down three feet in front of him on the sidewalk and called him.  He listened!  He came.  I repeated this several times.  Then after an initial balk, he and I trotted rapidly to the end of the block, to his pooping place.