Ladies and gentlemen the kindest and gentlest of all dogs, Callie, is depressed. I kid you not - she spent a total of three weeks in kennels over the summer, in two separate stints, and has returned a mere shadow of her former, happy self. She doesn’t play or run at all any more: she’s glued to my leg, sad and withdrawn, and tears herself away really only to eat. (And to bark at tractors of course, so there is hope, but still …)
The other day we tried everything we could to inveigle her into modelling our gorgeous new Dog Leads and Toys and even the ultra-chic Dogbeds we have just launched, but she was absolutely not up for any of it. Her huge dark eyes stared reproachfully at me as she slunk backwards round the kitchen table, trying simultaneously to get away while not leaving me - honestly, the ever-present maternal guilt is nothing compared to whatever this feeling is.
Apparently the only cure is a GREAT deal of stroking, and endless reassurance. As if she didn’t get all that anyway - she has always been quite the neediest pooch we’ve ever had. But also probably the best and kindest so obviously, on we go.
I’ll know she’s recovering when she starts pestering the postie again for snacks, or shouting at the squirrels again as well as the John Deeres. Until when, hugs and fussing it is …. oh well, alright then, if I must …
