Elvis under quarantine

Just a week ago, he was super psyched to have me home all of the time. In my lap, under my feet, snuggle, nuzzle, sigh.

Now, he’s avoiding me and not really wanting anything to do with me.

I’ve seen this before – but I’ve never been on the receiving end.

Elvis is sick of me.

When TAM’s dog stays with us for any length of time, Elvis is at first ecstatic, thrilled to the point of obnoxiousness to have a playmate, another four-legged, with whom he can roll around and tussle.

After a few days of this, he then decides that the novelty has worn off and he decidedly ignores his companion.

After another day or two, he becomes downright hostile, running interference any time Joey tries to get near me.

Or the food.

Or the water bowl.

Or my truck.

Or the couch.

Or the front door.

He’s an only child – what can we expect?

But now, he’s turned it all on me and I figured out today that it’s because he has his own routine which includes me being gone at work for hours on end and him having all the time in the world to tear up the house, get into my stuff, and sleep on the furniture.

He’s pissed that my presence is interfering with his alone time.

It’s a thing – I feel that way a lot of the time too. But I certainly did not expect Elvis to feel it and then take it out on me.

I let him out this morning and he refused to come in, staring at me defiantly from the front yard.

He won’t sit in my lap. Won’t even give me his rubber chicken to throw.

My loyal anxiety-ridden little dog is making me feel unwelcome in my own house.

Fucker.

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