Miserable Moose, Part 2

I’m starting to think I’m not the only member of my family who might be in need of prescription happy pills. Poor Moose, he’s not taking the news of our upcoming move well at all, and I suppose it’s our fault. We didn’t exactly sit him down and break the news gently. Instead, Moose’s understanding of our immediate plans for the future seemed to come the day that Roger dug the dreaded crate out of the cellar to measure it for the airline. The appearance of the crate conveyed to Moose what our words didn’t, and ever since he spotted the tiny animal jail cell, Moose has been a basket-case.

Baby Moose!

In the words of my nephew: “Moose is not a normal dog.” It’s true. Moose is not your average mutt, and he never has been. He came to live with us when he was just five weeks old. His mother’s owner had dumped the whole litter off at a backwoods rescue shelter almost as soon as they were born, when they were far too young to be away from their mother. Is it any wonder the little guy has issues? The first oddity we noticed was his tendency to ‘suckle’ on a blanket. As a puppy, Moose would comfort himself by gathering up whatever towel or blanket was nearest and shoving as much of it in his mouth as possible and sucking. Sometimes he would use his paws to 'pad' either side of the part he was suckling, almost like he was nursing. Weird, I know, but kind of sadly sweet too. He acted so independent so much of the time, and his strange suckling was the only clue he might not be as tough as he seemed.

After two years of finding holes in my favourite duvet covers and chenille throws (for Moose’s suckling was quite intense), he seemed to be growing out of his unusual habit. Roger and I were relieved – not only because we were tired of replacing blankets (not to mention the odd t-shirt or pair of jeans from the laundry pile) – but because at times we worried Moose would suffocate himself or choke on the fabric. So we were pleased when we realized Moose was suckling less and less often, until eventually he wasn’t suckling at all.

Until recently, of course.

I certainly don’t need a dog psychologist to spell it out for me. Still, when Roger went to get Moose's import papers signed, he mentioned it to our vet, affectionately known as ‘Basically Speaking Darryl.’

“Basically speaking,” says Basically Speaking Darryl, “Moose is a very perceptive dog, and basically speaking, I’m sure that he’s aware of the change that lies ahead. Basically speaking, of course.” (I’m not even exaggerating. I'm kind of going to miss Basically Speaking Darryl.)

It breaks my heart that our impending move is causing so much stress in Moose's life. I wish I could soothe his fears about the long flight, but the truth is: It's gonna be pretty miserable. And while I would love to promise him that life will be better back in Atlanta, I'm really not so sure. As much as I know moving home is the best thing for Roger and I, I'm not as certain about Moose. Here in Joburg, he has a yard; he has a cat girlfriend that he adores; he has a constant human companion in the maid and the gardener and usually the M-I-L. But in Atlanta, he’ll probably be in an apartment all day on his own. We used to think he liked his solitude (after all, he acted so uninterested in us when we came home from work, what were we supposed to think?), but after living here and seeing him follow the M-I-L around and play with the cat all day, well, now I’m not so sure. I feel guilty about taking him away from all this, but what can we do? He’s our baby! He belongs with us.

Still, I can’t help but feel guilty. So guilty, I’m afraid we might have to get him a cat, and as you know, I hate cats! It’s a good thing Moose can’t actually talk because who knows what else he could get out of me at this moment of guilt-fuelled weakness. I’ve already promised him scrambled eggs every Sunday. Now a cat. What’s next?

I know, I'm pathetic, but if the memory of this image wouldn't pull at your heartstrings, well you're a bigger person than I am...