My entitled mom despises the fact that I have a service dog, claiming that I don't need it, and even going as far as treating me like garbage the second I get it. And I'm honestly still so confused by this, and I seriously don't know what to do. Here's what happened. Okay, for a bit of context, I caused my mother who I live with at the time to have a full three-year-old style tantrum over me getting a service dog. For a little bit

of background, I've got a pretty serious visual disability that impacts my mobility. I have no

balance. I will walk off stairs and curbs. And basically, I used to accidentally hurt myself a lot.

For a while, I had been looking at getting a service dog to help me with these issues as stuff

like Keynes and walkers just

didn't do anything. I also secretly hope that it would help my serious burnout being caused by

world events. So after about a year of rejections, my best friend randomly shows up to my house one

day, showing me pictures of border collie puppies, and there was this one dog that I just fell in

love with. I can't really explain it, but we connected basically instantly, even though I had not met this dog yet. So I tell my buddy that if the puppy was still available, I would take her. I wasn't one to make spontaneous choices like that, but something just clicked. Well, my mother was less than thrilled, even at the idea. We were a dog household growing up, but my mother is

well, crazy to put it nicely, and if she gets it in her head that something is bad, she will double

down until there's nothing left. So my buddy calls me and tells me the pup is still looking for

a home. I then reach out to the service dog organization and I explain the situation. And they

explained that it may be possible to train the puppy,

but they would need to vet them, check their temperament, and all that jazz. So I passed the numbers

along. The trainers met the pup's mom's owner, and I was given a temporary green light. And at

this point, I was on cloud nine. Not only would I be getting my own service dog after waiting

ages, but for the first time in nearly a year,

I actually felt happy enough to get up before 6 o'clock p.m. So I spent the next couple of days

getting everything prepared for when my dog would come home. I got the vet stuff set up,

training crate, the food, the toys, the whole nine yards. And it was here that my mother began

getting more and more hostile towards me. It started off pretty petty, like my dryer door randomly getting opened, food that I made for myself getting tossed out, that sort of stuff.

But it grew to be more crazy. Like I had to replace the dogs leashed three times as it kept getting cut.

...