Living alone when you normally do not live alone is painfully boring. Since James deployed, all I have is Picasso. I mean, really, all I have is this little white dog!
And he's a terrible conversationalist. All he does is want me to throw his toys-- that something he used to only ask James to do. And I most certainly do mean the term ask. Picasso drops his toy on your lap or shoulder and if you ignore it, he repositions it, steps back and stares at you. Like you hadn't noticed the toy soaked with saliva 3 inches from your face. And if you totally refuse to throw it, he chews on it in your lap until you're so disgusted you just throw the toy.
Since James is the law in the house, Picasso has lost his mind since he's gone. Picasso no longer thinks he needs to be in his kennel at night. He hides from me when it's bedtime. And if I catch him off guard for bedtime, he looks reluctant and embarrassed. He won't make eye contact with me and I have to shove him into his kennel.
It's just Picasso and me for the next 9 months. It's boring. And lonely. But I don't know what I'd do if I didn't at least have my dog.
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