As the week progresses, Ben is getting sadder and sadder.
There are suitcases on the guest room bed, and we are filling them up with the things we'll find most handy for a wedding weekend in Las Vegas.
Ben doesn't like suitcases.
They fill him with uncertainty: Are you LEAVING me?? Do I have to RIDE in the car for a million hours? Am I going some place where leashes are REQUIRED? What is happening to my world?
When suitcases appear, Ben kicks into his best worry mode. He shadows us throughout the house. . . he plops down loudly and reproachfully on the floor -- a precise three feet away -- if we take a minute or two to watch television or work on the computer. . . he fixes us with deep, inquiring, piercing stares, plumbing the solutions to the Mysteries of Life -- or at least why his Two-Legged People behave the way they do.
(Oh wait. He does that, regardless of suitcases.)
And, then, the stink eyes set in. Here's Poor Pitiful Pearl at his finest tonight. It will only get worse over the next 24 hours. (Note: All are SOOP -- straight out of the phone -- hence the varying quality.)
And just to rub things in, I leave you with this image one more time. Welcome to our world.
Is this wedding weekend worth the canine guilt? Absolutely. A
To be continued.