Current mood: guilty
I really miss my dog, Guinness. He's not dead, at least I don't think so. He's over at George's house. George is my brother (adopted), a 125-pound Chocolate Lab. George is Guinness's uncle and also his best friend.
I've been on-the-road a lot over the last year, as you may have noticed. And George is kind enough to let Guinness sleepover while I'm gone. My parents spoil him rotten and fat, and they are so so so very good to him. When I come back in town, I collect Guinness and he comes back to my house with me.
But over the past couple of months, whenever I've brought Guinness home, he just seems depressed. He lays around all day, doesn't get excited when I come home, doesn't want to go on a walk, and sometimes goes on a hunger strike. I think the hunger strike is because he gets boring dry dog food at my house, and my parents get him take-out from the Bambi Bar.
He's been at my parents' house for several weeks now.
I have almost taken him home many times over the past few weeks, but I just know he doesn't like it at my house as much. My roommates don't seem to care for him all that much, and he gets into trouble from them a lot. He doesn't have a good doggie-friend over here. He likes it at my parents' house better. This makes me rather sad. I miss him. I feel like a bad bad doggie mommy.
My parents are great for watching him and being supportive of my traveling career. I'd take him on the road with me, but he weighs 150 pounds.
Whenever I feel guilty about dumping him on my parents, I remind myself that EmmyLou Harris dumped her infant child on her parents so she could go on the road with Gram Parsons.
But still, I miss my puppy.
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