Sunday

Sunday afternoon.

John's at work. Poor fellow. He hasn't had a day off in roughly 20 days. When it rains it pours and that's fine, but he should at least get to see the dog....mostly because the dog is obviously not satisfied with me as his main companion. Remo likes me fine, but he is 100% John's dog and if there was ever any doubt of that, these past few weeks have served as confirmation.

It's not that Remo despises me, but on about the 5th walk we've gone on he eventually just kind of lags behind...silently condemning me for not being as fun as John. In the living room, he'll creep over to the door, head hung low and weep gently, maybe even lie there for awhile, a pathetic sigh as he settles his head down between his paws.

He'll still cuddle with me, but somehow it feels like he's commiserating with me. He'll look up at me like I'm his company in misery, "aren't we sad that the big guy isn't here? Aren't we?" And I'll pet him and tell him it's okay and he'll glance up at me one more time before he hops off the couch and saddles slowly down the hallway.

He'll sleep in the bedroom till John comes home.