My Dogs are Smarter (Or, Kids aren't the only ones who act out)

My wife has been back in California for a week now. The Dogs, who for the first two weeks didn't really notice much of a difference in life until the day she was arriving home, have most definitely noted that things are not as they should be.

Even a canine begins to get the idea as packed boxes begin stacking up and people who are always around suddenly aren't. Their response has seen an uptick in counter-surfing, chewing and landscaping abuse.

Take for instance last night when Lacy took it upon herself to finish what was left of my lasagna as it sat on the counter. I've lost count how many times this week I've chased her under the dining room table--her newest safe-house--with some sort of contraband item in her mouth.

Dealing with Cassie has not been quite so problematic. She remains one of the most well-behaved animals I've ever seen. Even she though has figured out something isn't quite right.

In her case I'm not forced into chasing her anywhere, but rather I must console her. She's taken to wandering the house and wimpering.

When mom is around, one of her favorite things is sitting in eager anticipation at the bedroom door, waiting for mommy to emerge. I find her these days wanting still to sit there and wait. When the customary amount of time passes and mother should have already come to pet and play with her, she heads back downstairs with a wimper and plops down in front of the entertainment center. Finally to let out the most disconsolate and sad sigh.

Mommy, come home!