Dogs are fickle
I mentioned in my last post that we ventured to New Jersey recently to visit our relatives. What I didn’t mention was that our beloved pup went, too. He scouted the place out the night before we hit the road. Even though he’s proficient in many things, driving isn’t one of them so he rode down there with Uncle Scientist and the Restaurateur.
I left for work before he was picked up and carelessly forgot to say good-bye to my friend otherwise known as Dog. I realized this while speaking to my wife a few hours later. He didn’t want that kind of too-da-loo so he didn’t come to the phone. It was no big deal to me because I knew that I would see him when we got to New Jersey. Little did I know that it would be a big deal when I got there… to him.
My canine son made himself at home in Uncle and Aunt NJ’s house right away happily shedding hair everywhere and slapping ornaments off the tree with his tail with glee. When we arrived he couldn’t have been more excited to see everyone… except me. He seemed to go out of his way to not let me even pet him.
Whoever says dogs don’t hold a grudge, doesn’t know our dog. He avoided me for at least an hour until he realized his water bowl was empty. That’s when he extended the olive branch to me. If I had known that’s what it would take to break the ice I would have emptied it even earlier.
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