I miss my People when they are gone—not only because I can’t reach the treat jar by myself, but maybe because I’ve already been given up once. I will always harbor a fear of abandonment, though it has diminished a little over time. Still, when they leave me alone, I am less likely to go to my Cozy Cave than I am to curl up on an article of clothing they’ve left lying around.
The Lady tells me the Cozy Cave cost a lot, while the sweatshirt was a free gift that came with her checking account. But the sweatshirt smells of Her (as the Guy’s gym shirts smell of Him), and that makes me feel safer when I’m here alone and the fear of being left forever threatens to overcome me. At such times, these ordinary things comfort me a lot more than my expensive dog bed.
Earlier, I posted this picture and asked if you could identify the memorial in New York where it was taken.