Where Do You Think You Are Going?

Suspicious Weimaraner Puppy

Taren has spent the majority of his life suspicious that you might possibly be going somewhere, and you may not be taking him. Subsequently, I think he spends much of his time trying to figure out how he is going to get around that. He follows me watching for signs. Probably the dead give away is I put on shoes. I am a barefoot kind of gal. I can see the internal debate as to whether he thinks he is going of not. He stands by the door and wags his tail, his whole body really. He gets his infectious grin, and I hate to have to take him upstairs. I usually bribe him with a cookie, more for my sake than his. His whole body slumps and he looks dejected. It makes me feel guilty. Usually he heads up the stairs knowing the routine. Sometimes he lays on the carpet and refuses to budge. Usually a snap of the fingers and a sharp- Taren!, gets him moving, but not always. In those cases you have to dig out the big guns, cheese. I pick my battles. Recently I have had Jury Duty and I have to be gone every Wednesday for eight weeks. He knows the signs, and he is not happy about it. I have long suspected that Taren flirts with the edges of very mild separation anxiety. I fear my Jury Duty may push it over the edge.

As always, textures compliments of the ever generous and talented Jerry Jones

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