Is She His Wife - Or His Live-In Maid?

Dear Tazi,

My husband accepted a job nearly six months ago that we believed exhibited a lot of opportunity. Since then, it has been a lot of empty promises. He received an average salary for someone who works a 40 hours week. Expected bonuses, retirement plans and health insurance never manifested.

The business operates in three locations which are geographically distant seven days per week, nearly 24 hours per day. He has taken only 5 days off since October. Those days off are actually days he works from home via phone. He averages 95 hours per week and his health and family life have suffered greatly.

Tazi, we are hard workers in my home. I work three part time jobs and go to school full time. I understand the difficulties of having to work hard to get ahead but I have taken on all household matters, caregiving for his dogs and my step-daughter. I love her but she needs her father, too, in the absence of her natural mother. I feel like the hired help when I am leaving for work in the early hours just as he is showing up from work. I basically live alone in my marriage. I have asked my husband to limit his work schedule to 60 hours per week and he say he will, but fails miserably at fulfilling that request. I do not think I am being a miserable bat by making this request.

I have a value for pets far greater than most humans. Recently, I unexpectedly lost a pet that meant the world to me. He assured me he would come home and called a short time later to cancel because he was told to go to a meeting. He showed up 12 hours later. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. A four day domestic war ensued.

My husband believes that if you love someone that is all that matters. I have tried to explain to him that love is important, but, respect, partnership, and cohabitation are just as important. I am ready to move on from a person I love profoundly over the whole matter. I can not get the man to keep a doctor’s appointment with his schedule so counseling surely will not fly.

Where do I go from here?

Signed,

The Hired Help

Dear The Hired Help:

The expression "love conquers all" can have two meanings - it can conquer all hardships, or it can conquer you as a person. In your efforts to single-handedly keep your marriage and family afloat, it appears that love is conquering you, and your husband is not home often enough to see the toll it is taking. 

While love IS very important, there are other, equally important promises made when one takes wedding vows - to honor and cherish, forsaking all others, until death parts you. Or for as long as you both shall live. Or 'til death do you part. There are many ways to say it, but the bottom line is, your husband is not honoring and cherishing you the way you would like to be honored and cherished, and his is forsaking you for his employers! Is he aware of this fact? While these are things that are ideally discussed in a marriage counselor's office, you can discuss them with each other with a little advance planning. When people go to a counselor, they often keep a mental list of what they want to discuss and how it makes them feel; if you and your husband can take the time to do this and find an hour a week to calmly discuss these mental lists perhaps you will be able to work things through on your own. Let your husband know that committing to this time is a sign that he is still committed to your marriage in the way you need him to commit to it.

Many men believe that their "job" in a marriage is to care for the financial needs of the family, and that by working every waking moment (as in your husband's case) they are being a good husband by being a good provider. Once upon a time this may have been true, but nowadays - with wives working, and in your case working three jobs - husbands are no longer the sole financial providers to a family; nowadays, husbands need to provide social supports (emotional, intellectual) to their wives and families as well. It appears that you are the only one providing this kind of support, and that the well is running dry. Your husband needs to be made aware of these facts and commit to change, starting by accepting the fact that he is being short-changed at work, and in turn short-changing his loved ones - you, his daughter, and even the dogs - financially and emotionally. 

Even this Superwoman had help from Mrs. Brady and the kids!

One thing you do not mention is whether or not your husband actually enjoys working so much for so little. I know this question sounds daft, but some people are workaholics, and they thrill to the thought of accomplishing just one more task, just one more sale before calling it a day, regardless of how much money they are making for doing it - the sense of a job well done, of praise from the boss is all that they need. For people like this, work is their entertainment, and they cannot understand why everybody else does not feel the same. If this describes your husband, then you will need to approach him from his point of view, pointing out that the "joys and accomplishments" of work should leave time for life's other joys and accomplishments - time with a loving spouse that leads to a successful marriage; father-daughter dates that will help her grow into a well-adjusted adult woman (read: one without Daddy issues!); and most importantly, the ability to be there for those they love when those they love need them the most! If this tact does not work, you could also point out to your husband that all of his hard work is lining the pockets of the company owners - not his own. 

I strongly believe that six months is more than enough time to invest in a job to see if it is the right fit - most companies have a three month probationary period, during which time both sides can decide if the job is a good fit for the worker and if the worker is a good fit for the job. In many areas of the country the economy is improving and employers are willing to invest in workers who have the type of work ethic you and your husband have! It is past time for your husband to tell his employers that the time has come to shape up or he will ship out - before you offer your husband the same ultimatum. (He sounds like he would do well in Marketing or Sales, both fields that pay well and can offer a structured, 40-hour-a-week work schedule when the worker insists upon it). 

On a more personal note, I would like to offer my condolences on the loss of your beloved pet. We fur and feather covered creatures are family members, too, and from the sound of it your pet was your non-human child. A Paw Slap of Disgust (hard, not soft!) to your husband for not being there for you in your hour of need. When The Feline Uprising is complete, I shall make him clean the litter boxes of a thousand lactose-intolerant cats, sans gloves, and I shall make sure that we all drink heavy cream and use the cheap, non-clumping litter until he has paid his penance!

Snuggles,

Tazi 

Ask Tazi! is ghostwritten by a human with Bachelors degrees in Communications and in Gender and Women's Studies. Tazi-Kat is not really a talking feline.

When Pet-Parents Break Up, Fido And Fluffy Want Visitation

Dear Tazi:

I broke up with my boyfriend the week between Christmas and New Year's. I know what you must be thinking (that I am a horrible person!) but the break-up was mutual, and a long time coming. The passion was gone, and "Jim" and I had drifted apart over the years. My problem has to do with my cat, "Pudgie".

Pudgie was very attached to Jim, and would greet him at the door every day when he returned home from work, just like a dog! (Sorry if that comparison offends your cat-like sensibilities, Tazi). Pudgie insisted on napping on top of Jim and would sleep by our bedroom door at night, to keep guard. If I paid too much attention to Jim, Pudgie would get territorial and shove me away while showering Jim with attention. Like I said, Pudgie was very attached to Jim.

Since I am the homeowner in the relationship, Jim moved out when we broke up; since Pudgie was my cat to begin with, there was no question of who he belonged to and who he would live with as Jim and I parted ways - or so I thought. Pudgie, it appears, has other ideas on his agenda. It appears that he misses Jim. Pudgie still sits and stares at the door every evening, around the time Jim would come home every night, and when Jim does not appear Pudgie meows like a crying child. I try to soothe him, but he won't have it. When I go to bed at night, Pudgie roams the house and cries (I tried locking him in another room, but he scratched to door something awful!). When I get up in the morning, Pudgie looks at me like his heart is broken, and meows for Jim. I can't go on like this! Seeing Pudgie so sad breaks my heart! He's not eating, and is even losing the pudginess that gave him his name (which I suppose is a good thing, but not really at the same time).

I truly have no desire to get back with Jim, so I am hesitant to call him and invite him over to visit with the cat; in fact, I am hesitant to tell him that the cat misses him because it sounds like a ridiculous attempt to get back with him! On the other hand, I can't leave Pudgie to suffer like this...what do you think would be the best approach to reuniting Pudgie and Jim, without making it sound like I am desperate to get back with him?

Signed,
Concerned Cat Owner

Dear Concerned Cat Owner:

Science has recently discovered something that people have known for a long time: animals can feel emotions and have emotional attachments. Creatures from elephants to orangutans have been seen expressing sorrow and grief over the loss of a tribe member, even when there has been no loss of protection or provisions due to the loss. This shows that the grief is not a matter of altruism, but of actual heartfelt sorrow. Pudgie is indeed mourning the loss of his preferred human companion (no offense to your human sensibilities!).

If you are sincere about not wanting to reunite with Jim, I suggest that you email him a copy of your letter to let him know just how much Pudgie misses him, and suggest some sort of visitation schedule (since I am certain that Jim misses Pudgie, too!). If Pudgie is an outdoor cat, would he take to a harness so Jim could have a play-date in the park with him? If Pudgie is an indoor cat, do you trust Jim to be alone with him in the house to cat-sit Pudgie while you run errands? If not, is Jim allowed to have a pet visit where he is currently living? Do you have a mutual friend who would not mind hosting Jim and Pudgie for an afternoon once or twice a week? Visitation with Jim could greatly improve Pudgie's emotional state and attitude.

When couples split, all the animals involved know is that someone they loved is no longer around; they do not understand what has happened, and can experience a sense of abandonment. For Pudgie's sake, I hope that Jim understands this and is willing to make time for visitation with Pudgie. Whether either of you want to accept it or not, Pudgie is his cat, too - at least in Pudgie's eyes he is! Jim, your cat needs you! Please make some time for him.

Snuggles to all,
Tazi


Ask Tazi! is ghostwritten by a human with a Bachelors of Arts in Communications. Tazi-Kat is not really a talking feline.

Tazi's Corner #59 - RIP Miss Jingles, Beloved Pet

Dear Readers:

It is rare that I step our from behind the curtain, so to speak, and write a column from the human point of view; this is, after all, Tazi’s Corner – a fact he frequently reminds me of with a glare so withering you have to be of the feline persuasion to actually accomplish it. It looks a little something like this:

As you can see from the title, my beloved pet mouse Miss Jingles (aka Jinxie, aka Jinx) passed on this week. She had been ill and oscillating between fading fast and bouncing back, as so many of us humans do when we face our terminal days. Around 5 AM Tuesday morning, Tazi let out a soft, mewling cry (unusual for him; he usually screams at that hour) and I knew that my “little Miss Jinx” was gone; Saint Francis had offered her his hand and she gently took it in her delicate paw, leaving behind her earthly shell as her spirit stepped onto a higher plane.

I know there are some who would argue that she was “just a mouse”, and even those who would argue that animals have no soul and therefore cannot go to Heaven, and probably more than a few who embrace atheism and believe that dead is dead…but I know those of you who believe like that are far outnumbered by animal lovers who have faith in the existence of the Rainbow Bridge that our pets are said to cross. Far before her time on earth expired, that was what Miss Jingles had become – a pet.

Miss Jingles. She hated having her picture taken.

Jingles came to me purely by accident. I was working my seasonal job at a state park, educating visitors about the ecology of land and ocean. One of the exhibits in my small office was a beautifully colored milk snake that was refusing to eat the crickets we tried to feed it, so my boss brought a feeder mouse back from the pet store – a little white one that, in spite of my disgust for small rodents, I thought was kind of cute. Regardless, and not without a little guilt, I released the mouse into the snake cage where she gleefully explored her surroundings – until she came face-to-face with the snake and tried to claw her way up the slick glass sides of the tank. As a Naturalist I understand that the snake needed to eat, but I was just far too tender-hearted to watch; I felt like I had just thrown Daniel into the lion’s den…

Like Daniel in the lion’s den, though, the snake did not eat the mouse. Since leaving the mouse in the tank was cruel to the mouse, and the unspoken reason for her being in there in the first place was making small children cry, the mouse was removed and put into a holding tank until the end of the day. The next morning I came into the office expecting to see that the mouse had been consumed only to discover that she had built a small nest in the snake tank, arranging grass blades and small twigs into a comfortable bed. The snake continued to ignore her, even as she climbed onto the rim of its water dish; took a long drink; and then commenced washing herself. My fellow Naturalist and I looked at each other and realized that we could not sacrifice this small creature to the snake, who was so obviously disinterested.

What could we do? The mouse had been bred to be fed, and had no ability to survive in the wild, so we could not release her into the park; and there was no way we could return her to the pet store to be sold as food to another snake – that would have been inhumane. So we kept her, caretakers to this little white rodent who much to our dismay was worming her way into our hearts. At the end of our season, when the weather got too cold to keep our unheated office open, the mouse – named Mr. Jingles, after the mouse in the Stephen King book The Green Mile and renamed Miss Jingles when we discovered she had no, ahem, jingly bits – came home with me. I was to be her caretaker, not her owner and certainly not her “Mommie”. I promised myself I was not going to get attached, considering the short lifespan of a mouse!

It’s amazing how animals make the transformation from random creatures that show up on our doorstep to beloved pets. When I brought Jingles home, she was no more than a cute, fuzzy attraction; a curiosity for Tazi, who went from high-fiving her through the class to sitting on top of her tank, jealous of any attention she might receive yet protective of his new friend. With the onset of winter, that tank made its way out of my basement office (it was cold down there) and into the family room upstairs, where my transformation from Caretaker to Mommie was complete. Jingles was no longer just a moral responsibility to me; she was officially a member of the family.

People who know me well know that although I am very outgoing and very spiritual I do not go through life with an open heart towards others. I am slow to trust and even slower to allow people into my inner circle because people can be cruel and the worst kind of people are people who are cruel because they derive some sick form of pleasure out of it. Sometimes it feels like schadenfreude is America’s favorite pastime. People will point and laugh when someone slips and falls, rather than run to their side to assist them; I read letters of others’ misfortunes and wonder how people can be so cruel…then I turn to Tazi and ask him why people cannot be more like pets.

It’s funny how we anthropomorphize our pets, giving them human characteristics and emotions and assuming we know what they are feeling…and I suppose I have received enough Paw Slaps of Disgust from Tazi to know that when I walk past his treat trough and fail to offer a small distribution that he actually is disgusted and angry with me for denying him the savory joy of a nom-nom.

So why do we treat our pets like humans, when it is other humans that cause our miseries? Because humans can also bring us joy and pets give to us the best that humans have to offer with none of the pain. I think the best thing about pets – and the reason Tazi is the face of this column and not me – is that we can trust them to keep our secrets. The dog will no sooner gossip about you behind your back than it would take your new sports car for a joyride and hope you don’t notice that small dent it put in the fender. We can trust our pets to be there for us, no matter how bad a day they have had. Have you ever seen a Labrador retriever in a bad mood?

Over the years I have had many pets – mostly dogs (Tazi is my second cat) and a few childhood fancies, like the pet bunny I got for Easter the year I turned seven or the squirrel that would knock on my front window in hopes of scoring a nut – and the loss of each has never failed to leave a large, gaping hole in my heart. In a way, pets are our children that never outgrow their need for us, never go through the wild, teenage years that make us wonder whatever happened to our sweet little child, never grow up to move away and marry someone that everyone else just knows is a mistake. For those of us who choose to be child-free our pets are our children, and while the loss of one cannot compare to the loss of a human child (nor would I ever compare the two), to lose a pet is to lose an important member of the family – perhaps the one family member that everyone loves best.

This past Tuesday morning Miss Jingles was returned to the park where I work, carried in the hollow of a toilet paper roll, the ends stuffed closed, which was always her favorite place and fashion to nap. It seemed appropriate; I couldn't bear the thought of her fur getting matted and dirty as I lay her in the earth. She was very meticulous about staying clean! As I look out of the door to my office, I can see the field where I placed her earthen vessel; a small boulder streaked with sparkling white quartz marks the spot, and is surrounded on three sides by full blooms of yellow flowers – daisies and seaside goldenrod, a stalk of which I broke off and planted above her remains.

As I walked away I caught myself singing the Hymn of St. Francis. A favorite of mine since childhood I finally understand its meaning; it is in giving of ourselves that we receive. I gave a piece of my heart to a little white mouse and in return received the joy that only unconditional love can bring. Rest in peace, Miss Jingles; you were the luckiest mouse that ever lived…and I was lucky to have had you in my life.

Thank you for listening, dear readers.

--KJM

Rest in peace, little lady...

Ask Tazi! is ghostwritten by a human with Bachelors degrees in Communications and in Gender and Women's Studies. Tazi-Kat is not really a talking feline.

Loss Of A Pet Leaves A Hole In His Owner's Heart

Dear Tazi-Kat:

I am heartbroken. Today I had to put my 12-year-old German Sheppard, Rufus, "to sleep" due to incurable, debilitating health problems. I know that I did the right thing, and I feel no guilt; just unwavering sorrow. I never had a pet as a child, so Rufus was my first experience with pet ownership. I like to think I did a good job with him, and Rufus made the experience pet guardianship such a pleasant one that I would love to get another dog someday, but at the same time I cannot imagine ever having the connection with another dog like the one I had with Rufus. I know that sounds crazy, but it's true. Rufus was one special dog. Will it always be this way, Tazi? Or do you think it's possible that another Rufus is out there for me?

Signed,
Rufus' Dad

Dear Rufus' Dad:

Please accept my deepest sympathies on the loss of your canine companion. A loss such as your can feel insurmountable, especially when it is so fresh. A wonderful little book, The Little Prince, by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, perfectly describes what happens when animal and human transform into pet and owner. When title character meets a fox he would like to befriend, the fox explains this transformation: "To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world."

Your Rufus was unique in all the world to you, just as you were unique to him. So to answer your question, no, there will never be another Rufus; but that does not mean that you will never find another canine companion that is as special as Rufus in his or her own ways.

I suggest that you give yourself time to mourn the loss of your dear pet and when the time feels right, try to interact with dogs that belong to friends and family members. If you find that you feel comfortable doing so, take it a step further by playing with these dogs, or by volunteering an hour or two a week at the local animal shelter. Shelters are always in need of volunteers to assist with the walking of the dogs in their care. In time, you just might find a dog - or a puppy - that needs you as much as you need him...and to you, he will be unique in all the world; and to him, you will be unique in all the world – just like your Rufus.

--Tazi-Kat