My dogs hate me.
Despite my best efforts to educate them, they remain stubbornly unclear on the concept of "working from home".
Using their simple dog logic, if daddy is home he is here to play with me.
Sorry, doesn't work that way.
Not that they don't try. Every single morning we go through the same drill. As soon as I sit down at the computer, my older dog starts bringing in a parade of squeaky toys, one by one. He sits behind me and every so often lets out a sad, forlorn squeak. After a minute or two, he abandons that toy and goes off to try another one. He seems to think there's one magic squeaky toy that will do the trick and get me down on the floor to play. The end result is a massive pile of toys just behind my chair.
My little dog is even more pathetic. All day long, she carries a tiny tennis ball in her mouth, never dropping it, wanting to be ever ready if I decide it's time to play. It looks like she's ball-gagged.
By mid afternoon they both get sullen and moody. And occasionally, out of spite, my older dog will grab a rawhide chewy and plop himself between my feet and the wheels of my chair. I think he's secretly hoping I'll roll over his tail, for no other reason than to amp up the guilt.
It's not like I ignore them. We go out for a long walk when the boyfriend leaves for work around 6:30. And I usually block out a half hour to play, chasing one around the house while simultaneously flinging a tennis ball all over creation for the other. And around 1 or 2, we go out for another long walk, this one specifically to go looking for cats. Or to go rolling in the grass. Sometimes both. It's up to them.
But still, it's not enough.
The worst part is they make me feel so bad I've taken to overcompensating by feeding them treats and now they're getting fat.
I am such a bad parent.
