I feel bad enough for leaving you home to your own devices and boredom roughly 40 hours a week. So I try to make up for it on the weekends. In this case we’ve been to 3 dogs parks in 3 days and accrued roughly 6 hours of doggy play time. You swam, you romped, you ran and wrestled and as far as I could tell you were having a wonderful time. Sunday night your little poochy eyes warily closed and let your body relax into deep dream twitch filled sleep.
And now it appears that I’ve given you some type of K-9 paw blister to feel guilty about. Did I run you too hard? Did I let you play in too much water? Did I not dry you off properly? Now you limp and pathetically caress your pads with lapping tongue. You hand me your paw as if I could repair it and then demand pain numbing belly rubs.
Now at 6:15am I’m ready for my run and you appear ready as well. But this morning you favored your paw, licked your sore wound and made me rub your belly. The guilt is twice felt as I leave your disappointed dog face and think about your injury as I lock the door and leave you alone for an additional 30 minutes today, knowing when I come home you’ll still leap awkwardly on 3 legs and love me as if I’ve only done you the best service known to man or beast.
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