My husband has returned. Now I must tell him the truth.

Throw away account, as this is partly his doing. Before I begin; If you have a dog, your dog is a good dog. This has been a long day. My husband and I have been married for about thirteen and a half years. A few days ago, last straw, he left to go pet sit our neighbour's dogs while the neighbour was away. He took our dog, Ares, with him. Ares and dog park do not mix. Ares "owed" a visit to the ER by about $800. Last straw was when Ares got locked in the neighbour's truck for about twenty minutes, shivering, while my pet hating husband was inside the neighbour's house. He hated that the dogs were barking when he got home. He hated that Ares smelled like urine when he peed on the neighbour's rug. He hated that Ares got covered in bug bites. He hated that Ares got covered in sand when he rolled around in it. He hated that the other dogs in the park hated Ares. He hated everything about Ares. So, he left. And gave no notice. He texted the neighbour and said he was taking Ares back to my parents. No discussion. No questions asked. Didn't ask me if I approved, or what I thought about the arrangement. He knows my parents are away for work. Knows their house is newly renovated and has no yard. Knows Ares is not small. So, I'm fucked. Because he's gone, and I'm here, dealing with the aftermath. He didn't empty the bladder stone infested bladder, he didn't shave the mat covered fur, he didn't deal with the psychological trauma of park day. So, I must tell him the truth. And hope that he never returns. Ares is mine. Always has been. Always will be. Ares came to me as a puppy. Handled by a breeder, abandoned by owners. Lived life as a king, by all accounts. From puppyhood, Ares was destroyed by dog parks. As he grew, so did the problems. From other dogs. From people. From peeing on white carpet. From poop bags that popped during trash night collections. From being destroyed by other dogs. From being destroyed by people. From his own mental demons. Ares had his first major episode at five. Urolithiasis, and subsequent bladder issues. Aftermath of that episode left Ares with destructive tendencies, and a shit ton of fear and anxiety. Bladder issues left Ares with incontinence issues. Peeing on carpet. Peeing on the bed. Peeing on himself. Peeing on himself usually led to being covered in bugs and filth, as he'd sit and rot in a corner, shaking with fear and pain and shame. As Ares aged, so did his problems. He went from a destructive puppy, to a destructive older dog. He went from a fearful puppy, to a fearful older dog. And my husband went from tolerating Ares, to hating Ares. From grudging acceptance to full on disdain. It's hard to explain, but I think he just never loved Ares. He said he did. But he never did. He never dealt with Ares. He ignored Ares. Tolerated Ares. Until he didn't. So now, I must tell him the truth. Ares is mine. Always has been. Always will be. It makes me so angry. So fucking angry. That he's destroyed my dog. Destroyed our marriage. Destroyed our life. Fucking pet hating piece of shit. Goodbye.

My husband has returned. Now I must tell him the truth.

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