“Woof Woof,” I bark at the window. “What happened?”
I knew my life had taken a dark turn by the time bedtime came and went. Sometimes my humans go out but never over night. Confused is an understatement.
“Come back,” I bark. But nothing happens. I slink up to the bedroom where my temporary humans are sleeping and flop beside their bed trying to make noise. Maybe they’ll wake up and tell me what’s going on. Nope.
Day two of loneliness. I sit by the front door. If I can just catch sight of them, they’ll remember I’m here and come and get me.
Day three of loneliness. “Where are they?” I whine. My temporary humans just smile and tell me I’m okay. That Kristina and Matt will come back.
But when? I don’t get this time thing. And how is a dog supposed to get a good night sleep when his humans are out on the street somewhere. What if they need me? I stand guard at night, so who is guarding them now?
When I can barely stand the stress anymore, on day five the door opens and they arrive. I try to pretend I’m mad at them, but I can’t hold to it. I run and wiggle and jump all over them. Then I head to my favourite corner. Finally a guy can take a good nap.