I’ve come to the conclusion that my precious pooch is upset with me. Jackson, our puggle, is 4 years old. Though he gets extremely excited when someone comes to the house, or simply walks by the house, he really is a fabulous dog. He’s excellent with our girls, a great companion, and is pretty well behaved. He can have some separation anxiety when left in a new place, but we are used to that. Trent is the one in charge of taking care of Jackson. I’m in charge of the fish, and he the dog. Before Trent left, he reminded of me of all the things I had to add to my list that he would normally do. Taking out the trash (which I have to do tonight) and feeding Jackson were on the list. Even though I tried really, really hard not to forget to do anything, the first day and a half Trent was gone, I might have forgotten to feed him. Granted, he has lots in storage and the girls always make sure he gets everything they don’t want off of their plates. So between that and Trent being gone, I believe he is “acting out.” I didn’t even think about Jackson becoming an emotional basket case, too. In the past 24 hours he has torn his bed to shreds, pooped on the floor, and torn through the trash. This cute little guy surely couldn’t do all that?!?
On a lighter note, my dad had a birthday this past weekend. The girls and I went down to celebrate with him, and Joanna thought that Pa needed cupcakes. My sister and her kids joined the party as well. It was a good distraction for the girls and nice to get away from the house.