I had to take Rocky to doggie boot camp today. He’ll be gone for ten days. You see, he doesn’t come when he’s called, and if he gets loose (which happens frequently with a 4 year-old in the house), he bolts and has to be coaxed back into the house with serious goodies. We’re talking real meat – doggie treats do not do the trick here.
It’s kind of ridiculous how much I miss him. It’s akin to being separated from your first love for the first time and you count the days until you will be reunited. I miss how he is always, absolutely thrilled to see me when I walk in the house. I miss his quiet company when I’m working. For all the comfy places he could be in the house, when I am at my desk for any period of time, he curls up underneath and rests his head on my feet. I miss watching him make the kids laugh when they start crying.
All of which makes me feel even more guilty for leaving him. I’ve used all the standard parent logic: “This is for your own good. This hurts me more than it hurts you. You’ll thank me later. We will all be better off once you are able to listen,” and so on. None of that logic helped yesterday when he resisted going into the truck. He had to have known something was up because he loves the truck. Fun things happen when you go in the truck. You go to the dog park or to Grandma’s or for a hike.
Not yesterday. He refused to jump in. So here’s me trying to life a 70 pound dog into the truck with a very sore back. I closed half the hatch and turned away from his pleading eyes before shutting him all the way in. He paced the whole 45 minute drive to the training center. He whined the whole time I spent filling out the paperwork. He howled after I shut the door and left. It was like leaving my kids with the nanny all over again. You know they are going to be well cared for, loved even. You know they will have fun and forget about you five minutes after you leave. But it’s the howling you carry with you.
Phil says I’m anthropomorphizing. Perhaps so. But he didn’t see Rocky’s Julius Caesar eyes following me out the door as if to say, “How could you? My own mother!”
I’ll be back next Friday. Don’t hate me!Categories: Dogs, Parenting · Tags: Dogs, Rocky