Among her many…uh…quirks, Electra seems to have a teensy little bit of separation anxiety. And by teensy, I mean that she has a tendency to lie on our shoes when we try to put them on in the morning in a cunning attempt to keep us from walking out the door. She howls (eardrum-shattering, the-neighbors-probably-think-we’re-killing-her howls) when we come home, whenever we come home, whether we’ve been gone a week or 10 minutes. And just the sight of a suitcase (whether we’re packing it or rearranging the closet) can send her straight into a frenzy. She follows us around the house, wide-eyed and panting, refusing to let us out of her sight.
Between the moves (from Arizona to Nebraska, and three different houses here in Lincoln) and the arrivals of Cadence and Henry (where Stevie and I packed a suitcase, disappeared for three days, and then returned with two squirming and sweet-smelling mini-humans), our poor hound has developed a bit of a complex.
This past Tuesday, Stevie pulled the ultimate ninja move and headed off to New York without packing a suitcase. He managed to shove everything he needed for the week in his backpack and Electra was none the wiser. By Friday, though, she’d realized something was up. And today, well, today the only way the two of us could have been closer is if someone had taken a needle and thread and sewn us together. She’s obviously afraid I’m trying to sneak out too. Apparently she doesn’t trust the little Romanos to follow her feeding schedule. I managed to sneak out the front door to grab the mail, and this is what I saw when I came back.
Seriously, Electra. I was outside for less than two minutes. This dog is going to lose her shit when Stevie gets home.