Dear Miss Sue,
When I see my Papa’s big red bag packed and sitting by the door, I know what that means: he’s leaving. I know he always comes back but I just get so sad and crabby knowing he’s going to be away from us, for I don’t know how long.
My Mama knew I might have a hard day at daycare, on Wednesday, when she dropped me off; that’s why she texted Miss Peg to let her know. But, you had already guessed my Papa was out of town when I started picking fights with my doggie friends and was being an all-around grump. I may act all tough and rough but if you haven’t already noticed, I am a sensitive soul who wears my heart on my sleeve.
I really appreciate you taking the time to talk to me about choices because I knew my doggie daycare day was on the line. My Mama wants me to behave and will not put up with me being a bully to others, even if my feelings are hurt. I tried really, really, really hard to pull it together, put my happy face on, and have fun. I think I did a pretty good job of bucking it up.
I should warn you, Miss Sue and all of my patient and loving daycare teachers…my Papa came home last night but I can hear him and Mama talk about him leaving again on Monday. I don’t know when Monday is but I’m already worried about it. I promise though I will try my best to be a very good boy for everyone. It’s just so hard sometimes…
Really, it was a good plan. Today was a grading day for teachers, which means no kids. Which means I could take things a little slower this morning. I was going to drop Pongo off at daycare and then take Steve’s truck to get an emissions test before heading into work.
Lately, Pongo has been battling getting into the car and into his kennel. I don’t know what’s going through his mind; he’s done it a thousand times but has decided he doesn’t want to load up. I was expecting a battle so I was prepared: I had Pongo’s kennel all ready to go in the truck and told him in a happy, excited voice that he was “going to daycare today!” I took him out to the truck and oh boy was he excited to be getting in-tail wagging, even whining a little! Who was this dog?!? I was very confused. I went with it though. Usually, he settles in and lays down for the ride to daycare but today he sat up the whole way looking out the window.
Then it hit me. This was Papa’s truck. This was the car we took to drop Steve off at the airport. And now, Pongo was anticipating picking Papa up from the airport. He was going to be sorely disappointed when we pull into the daycare parking lot.
I dropped him off seemingly happy to be at daycare, quickly get the truck’s emission tested, and head to work. I had settled in for the day and hear my phone buzz with a text message. I see a message from Miss Peg:
Jen, your boy seems unusually cranky today. It isn’t a big class and we can manage him. Just letting you know that if you are doing things after work, a long day might be more than he can handle.
Uh oh. I had set up our boy for a bad day. I let Miss Peg know I could come pick him up early if she needed me to but she said that wouldn’t be necessary. I tried my best to leave work to pick him up early but it just wasn’t happening today-too much going on. I worried about him all day; just hoping he could hold it together. And, he did…for the most part…
I sure do hope Steve is able to make that plane out of Dillingham tomorrow afternoon because I’m dealing with a very sensitive soul, who really misses his Papa!
Pull out the luggage and Reid starts pacing. Pack a bag or two and Pongo’s whole mood swings from Mr. Happy Go Lucky to Mr. Melancholy. Pongo doesn’t do well when his pack isn’t together. He becomes a whole lot more barky and turns into a super pill: testing, testing, testing. Basically, driving Mama crazy.
To Pongo’s dismay, Steve spent most of last week working out in the field at Port MacKenzie. He came home on Saturday night and you could visibly see the relief in Pongo’s eyes. He plopped himself down between Steve and myself happy as a clam. Unfortunately, Steve began packing again last night to head back out into the field this week, and Pongo knew exactly what that meant: Papa’s leaving again.
I now have one depressed dog on my hands.