I love my outside environment but inside – not counting the food available there – it’s rather depressing. I’m still missing that long hallway of my old house.
“Hey, Lazy Bones, I found you a job,” Mistress says, her tone of voice all enthusiastic and joyful as she looks down at me.
Of course, I have no idea what a job entails but still I wag my tail because of her enthusiasm and that I’m happy to see her.
She then tells me that she booked an evaluation for me. “Come on let’s go.”
Now? You want me to go now. I’m really not feeling up to it I want to tell her. Can’t she read body language. Besides, I’m still feeling somewhat depressed because of the move.
dog contemplating having a job
“Let’s go home,” she says after our morning walk.
Those words used to send thrills through my heart. I loved my old neighbourhood with its variety of odours. Where are the intoxicating smells of roasted chicken coming from the delivery store? Where is the good owner of the deli who often slipped me a piece of pepperoni? And the trees trunks with the smell of my buddies?
There is none of this now. I feel lost.
I am inside an elevator and up we go with my stomach doing a tilt- a-whirl. I try to contain my fear. I am not used to being in such a small closed space. Then the doors open and I am able to breathe again and let out a loud bark which my mistress scolds me for. I follow her down a corridor and into my new home.
I miss my old home with its passage-way long enough for me to chase after my stuffed dinosaur. Here, though it’s too small. I head straight for my bed and sulk for the remainder of the day and evening, which in dog time is probably weeks, maybe months. I hate my new home. I hate that she didn’t even consult me about moving.