My poor little girl dog.
Lally is my “Velcro dog” — she’s the one who’s usually at my side. When I’m home, she’s almost always in the room with me. (I’m doing my writing in my office today, and she’s in her spot between the desk and the wall. Meanwhile, Moose is out in the living room, watching the world through the patio door.)
My fuzzy baby girl got quite spoiled when we lived with my grandmother — someone was almost always home. It was rare that both my grandmother and I were out of the house for too long.
Now that the dogs and I have moved out on our own, we’ve all had to make adjustments.
Lally isn’t thrilled when I go out and leave her behind. It’s become more of a problem since I’ve been helping a friend with some large projects. Between the drive and the work itself, I’ve been out of the house seven, eight, or more hours at a shot. And Miss Lally Beeber doesn’t like it one bit!
It’s pretty obvious when I’m getting ready to go to my friend’s office — my morning routine is different. I shower before work, instead of after (like I do when I go to the cats-only boarding facility). I wear different clothes. I pack a lunch. I take them for two walks before I leave, rather than just one.
Once Lally realizes that I’m getting ready to leave, she won’t accept a post-walk cookie. Once I pick up my purse and keys, she sits down and starts to shake. It’s heartbreaking! She sits and stares at me and shivers.
Any time I’m heading out, I say the same things. “Two dogs stay. Be good. Go sleepy. Don’t bark too much. I’ll be home soon. Mom loves you.” And okay, maybe “soon” is relative. But I do always come home to them.
Lally doesn’t do other separation anxiety stuff like chew or scratch at the door or anything. She just tries to guilt me into staying home… and let me tell you, it’s hard to resist!