Dog Whisperer

All my mom wanted to eat during the month of December was sweets. Even though we weren’t having Christmas until Feb 1st. We still had guests during the month and a party on Christmas Eve for my husband’s family, so naturally we had some treats.

After Christmas, however, the treats were gone. It was at that time my mother became horrible to live with. All she wanted to do was pick on me. I pointed out the changes in her mood and thinking, I tried to explain that she needed to eat more protein so she could think more clearly. (My mother suffers a form of dementia from lack of protein; it is reversible with a balanced diet which she refuses to eat.)  Well, once I mentioned the “D” word (dementia) I was no longer safe. She was all over me.

I don’t have dementia, your butt has dementia!”
“Mom, how can my butt have dementia, it doesn’t have a brain.”
“Well, neither does your
head.”

Okay, maybe she is smarter than I give her credit for.

It’s also during this time when my mother decided to get a full-time job and work overtime. She is now my official shadow. (Stalker.) She was even more difficult to live with. When I had enough, I would get up and go to the bedroom or bathroom and lock the door. Yes, I would lock the doors. She would be right behind me still causing problems.

“Why did you lock the door?”
“I just want to be by myself.”
“Open the door, what are you afraid of?”

Well, if you must know, this fifty-five, plus-size gal is afraid of 115lbs of Craziness.

During the last week of December she was at her worst. She thought I was the only one home with her. I hadn’t been home for a few hours and when I returned, I had hell to pay.  I came into the house, said I was home, and went into the bathroom. My husband was coming into the kitchen from the garage. My mom got up, went to the bathroom door, and started to pound on the door with her open hands.

“Who’s in there?”
“Me, Mom. It’s Nancy.”
“Open the door! (pounding) Open the door! (pounding)”

She scared the hell out of me. If I could have been able to get my big you-know-what out the window, I would have. My husband was laughing and said it was like a comedy skit. If you think I’m exaggerating, have someone pound on your bathroom door. It’s really loud. I can still feel my heart pounding (okay that’s an exaggeration).

I decided to call Muriel and tell her what happened. My son, Paul, answered so I told him the scenario.

“Mom, you need to watch Cesar Milan, the Dog Whisperer.”
“What?”
“When he has dogs that don’t behave, it’s because they want attention. Do what he does, but with Grandma, and she’ll stop.”
“Paul, as much as Grandma drives me nuts, I’m not going to hit her on the nose with a rolled up newspaper.”
“No, Mom, watch the show. He ignores them until they have the appropriate behavior. You are the only one she does it to because you react.”
“So I can’t hit her with the paper?”
“No.”

Well, I’m trying to ignore her the best I can. It seems to work. I’m only trying to interact with her when she is being nice. When she gets out of hand I just say to myself: “Hear no evil, speak no evil, see no evil.”

In all fairness to Grandma, I truly think she was going through sugar withdrawal.

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2 Responses to “Dog Whisperer”


  1. 1 Rich February 9, 2009 at 10:21 am

    I’m sympathetic when hearing of what your dealing with pertaining to your Mom’s dementia, as mine had it for several years before she passed.

    When I needed extra patience, I tried to remember that if she had a choice, she wouldn’t want to be that way.

  2. 2 Barbara April 14, 2010 at 9:02 am

    Ok, I’m going to check this out. My Mom’s not as difficult as yours–yet!– but I made need the info for the future!


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