My poor dog. Ever since we returned to Manhattan, Truman has spent every day slumped on the floor, looking very much like a old pot roast someone dropped and left behind. You see, he lived in a yard all summer, hanging out with my parent's yapping terror. I always thought he found their dog annoying, biting his ears and running in circles and all that, but it seems he misses Miss ADHD.
He gazes at the wall, lost in despair. I've been throwing the tennis ball. Nothing. Dangling his favorite smelly sock in front of his face. Not even an eye flick. How about a treat? Meh. When I take him out of a walk (drag), he's not even interested in sniffing a single butt.
Help! I don't know what else to do! He used to love being a city dog, what with all the smells and activity. I guess he secretly longs for the suburbs.
We'll be visiting my parents soon, but it's not like I can reason with Truman in the interim.
Poor Truman!!! You're right, he DOES look like a pot roast!!
Maybe he is love sick?
How about a dog walk with other dogs to take his mind off it all?
He does look sad.
That's what happens when we get separated from the one we love. The world just never seems quite right.
moonrat--I've had people on the street ask me if he was some sort of pig hybrid. I mean, yes, I'll admit he's a little ham hock-y, but an actual pig? Seriously, people?
Mother Hen--I think he probably is. I'm a sad substitute sitting here typing at the computer all day.
Debra--This is true. :(
Awwww, poor guy! I admit I laughed really hard at the pot roast comment, and the comments are even funnier. Thanks for that.
If he doesn't like socks I don't know what to tell you. That's Owen's cure-all.
poor guy. he's lonely. maybe you can do doggie stuff with him.
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