Home again, home again, jiggity jig.  Everyone under one roof, although not in the same room right now.  (Tween and a teen, hey gotta have them some space....).

Talked to both of them about Huck and the necessity of doing something about his unhappiness.  I have contacted the border collie rescue people about rehoming him.  At 7 years of age, I'm not sure it's going to happen, but I - we - are failing him miserably.  Both cried but declared understanding.  Charlie is going to make a last-ditch effort to walk Huck more often and pay better attention to him.  I told him I appreciated it, that even if it did not change the outcome, the dog would undoubtedly benefit from the increased care and attention.

Even this situation is subject to my ADD/OCD theme, truthfully.  ADD of course is to blame for not walking the dog, not doing what it takes to ensure that he's exercised and adapted and happy and bathed.  OCD is the one who agonizes, guilt-ridden, over the wrongs done to the dog, the myriad details that go wrong every day, and who thinks he's going to be inevitably damaged if we rehome him.  OCD has also realized that he's probably permanently damaged if we don't rehome him.  So as usual, OCD is in her own permanent guilt spin.

The truth is, he's a dog.  A sweet and loving dog who deserves better, but, a dog.  He's not a metaphor for my life or my mistakes.  At least, he shouldn't be.  He's more than that, and less.