I don’t think I’m the only one who leaves home each morning to head for work, but could I be the only one who does so wracked with guilt thanks to my pets?
For the way Henry and Oliver act, you’d think that what I was doing was nothing short of abandonment–
“–And neglect!” chimes in Oliver, my three-year-old Maltipoo.
“You’re killing us,” adds my Cavalier King Charles Spaniel who descends from royalty. Otherwise known as Henry.
Sigh. I’m guilty as charged.
Exhibit A: This is what happens at my house Monday through Friday. First, we go on our traditional morning constitutional, mostly so that the dogs can do their, well, business. Takes about 20 minutes and then we return home, refreshed and revitalized, and two of us, relieved. Which is when guilt begins to rear it’s ugly head.
Henry and Oliver, sensing that my departure is imminent, take their positions on the couch, looking slightly peeved and out of sorts. They shoot me a look that cuts me to the core and hits me with a 2X4 of pure, unadulterated guilt. And then they cut to the quick:
“You’re missing the best moments of our lives,” whines Henry.
“I’ll never be this young and playful again,” adds Oliver, licking his wounds, er, paw.
Having no other choice, I bow my head, surrendering myself to the remorse that seems to overpower me as I make a hasty retreat.
Exhibit B: Below is my dynamic duo as I take my leave.
One look is worth a thousand words and then some. These fellas know how to pile it on thick. Like a kick in the shins. No matter what I do to make my absence more palatable for them.
For example, I leave music on for their enjoyment and distraction, hoping it’ll overpower the sound of any trucks passing by, so that Oliver doesn’t start barking like crazy.
I plump their pillows with their utmost comfort in mind. I freshen their water bowl. I feed them, of course, and walk them so they can do their business while enjoying the outdoors and getting some sunshine. I give them each a pat on the head and make sure they have proper air circulation throughout the day. In other words–and I’ll never admit in a court of law that I said this, but–these guys are coddled!
So why do I feel like I’m the World’s Worst Pet Owner?
On the other hand, maybe I’m reading too much into their facial expressions. Yeah. That’s the ticket! Maybe they don’t care at all and frankly, can’t wait for me to leave. Maybe I’ve gotten it all wrong and they’re actually happy I’m gone!
Or maybe not. After all, who knows what secret lives they lead when I’m not around?
So tell me, what do you do for your pets when you have to head for work?