Separation Anxiety

Well, it's official.

Ivy is "one of the family."

She has an anxiety disorder.

Let me explain.

The day after Christmas we decided it would be fun to go see the movie Marley and Me, about a family and its incorrigible, irrepressible, entirely loveable dog.

We've been careful about introducing the kennel as a "happy" place to Ivy. Her nighttime kennel is upstairs in Melissa's bedroom, so she's never spent the night alone. When I needed to walk on the treadmill or take a shower, I would put Ivy in her downstairs kennel. She would whine and complain for a while, but eventually she'd settle down. She's never had an accident in her kennel, not even overnight.

We thought we'd be safe leaving her at home for 3-4 hours in her kennel while enjoying our movie.

Little did we know.

We were pushing the 4-hour mark and I was feeling nervous about getting home to Ivy (and because the chicken coop still needed to be closed up for the night). We hurried home, all of us eager to greet our little princess.

At worst, I thought she might have peed in her kennel.

At best, I figured she'd be hyper from the time spent confined.

Michael entered the house first, prepared to whisk her out of the kennel and outside for pottying. As we trooped in after him, we heard cries of "Oh, no!" and "She's gone!"

And she was.

Sarah finally found her upstairs, happy and no doubt relieved to see us again.

It took us several minutes to piece together what had happened.

Apparently, Ivy became so distraught at being left home alone that she managed to break out of an 8" x 12" panel in the front of her kennel. How a nearly 40 pound puppy managed to squeeze herself out of such a tiny opening, we'll never know.

Once free, she only became more anxious, and set off on a path of nervous destruction throughout the house, chewing my two new folk art hand-painted Santa Clauses, destroying boxes and leaving sticks and splinters scattered throughout the downstairs. She then must have heard Wally upstairs (we usually sequester him in one of the bedrooms so he doesn't eat anything we've neglected to put away). Unable to get in with Wally, she tore through Melissa's room, destroying two new American Girl doll boxes, but leaving the contents remarkably unscathed. She played with skeins of yarn and tore the roof off a new Playmobil cabin before traveling to Sarah's room to pee on a shirt on the floor and dump a tray of beads.

Sometime amidst her travels she found the time to poop on my bedroom rug, pee in the hallway three separate times and pee outside her kennel downstairs.

All things considered, the damage could have been much worse.

The kids picked up, Michael vacuumed and shampooed the rugs, and I cradled the little miscreant. She must have been so frightened and just didn't know what to do. We've since received some great advice to help with the separation anxiety, though we haven't yet had a chance to put it into practice.

A dear deranged courageous friend of ours agreed to watch Ivy and Wally while we travel to visit my mom this week. She'll have Ivy, Wally, her own dog, two cats, two chinchillas and a myriad other animals of her own to take care of while we're gone for 4 days. Oh, and she'll also be checking in on our 4 cats and 10 chickens.

She says she isn't afraid.

She thinks it will be fun.

I just hope she's right...