Anytime my wife leaves the house, the dog runs to the window, watches her walk out of the gate, puts on the saddest puppy face you have ever seen, and whimpers like she is never coming home. He then quickly looks over at me like he is trying to say, “Do SOMETHING pink monkey!! She is getting away!” He then sulks for a couple of hours. If Stamps-With-Foot is gone for more than a day, he acclimates and we turn into big buds, he follows me around the house/yard, snuggles at bed time, and hangs out with me if I am reading or watching TV. That dog has it great when it is just him and me: unlimited bacon, I don’t blaming him for the gas smell that was probably me, walks in the park, cream cheese at C&P coffee, no baths, rough housing, ball throwing, ear scratching, his food heated up, and cat chasing to his heart’s content.

All bets are off though when she walks back in the door. He runs up and puts on a ten minute show of how much he loved and missed her like I beat him and made him wear fuzzy booties and have Tea Party with Kung Fu grip GI Joe, Han Solo, and some troll dolls.

This is “The Look” and below is the background music in his head when the gate swings shut and he is not prancing out of it with her connected via a leash…