My dog just returned from the hospital after a stay of about 36 hours. He ingested some kind of poison that was attacking his kidneys, and we thought we were going to lose him. It looks like he is going to be okay.
I was quite distraught and upset when he was very sick, which you never would have imagined when we first got him. My wife really, really wanted a dog. I really, really did not. I didn’t know it at the time, but that was my autism begging me not to bring it a puppy.
I had real, awful struggles when we first brought him home. Meltdowns, frustration, ideation of self-harm. My struggles with the puppy led me to seek psychological counseling for the first time in my life. It was only a few sessions in when the counselor recommended I have an assessment for Autism Spectrum Disorder.
I didn’t know what to think. I had always noted a passing similarity between symptoms of autism and things I had experienced, but never seriously considered that I might be autistic. And after all, I had always heard that autistic people loved animals, and that they found having a pet very helpful.
I’m sure I’ll be writing many posts about my dog and the complicated relationship I have with him. He’s the reason I sought a diagnosis, which is bad. But he’s the reason I discovered I had autism, which is good (and bad). I love having him sleep in my lap. I hate when he barks at the door to anyone who is delivering a package or merely has the brass to walk past our house.
For now it’s enough to say that I’m glad he’s home and getting better.
Performance Autist 