So I've moved into Milky's house to take care of it and Famous Seamus for a week.
He's a lovable mutt (Seamus, not Milky -- okay, Milky too) but what a neurotic suck (Seamus, not Milky). He danged well KNOWS that Milky and The Lovely Sue were making a getaway when they left with suitcases at about 4:30 this morning. He cried and whined for about an hour, before falling asleep on the bed next to me. Then the rest of the day until I left for work, he just moped around all depressed. He wouldn't play with me and his ball, the tennis ball that he always drops at my feet until I throw it or kick it, soaking my socks on the doggie drool.
I'm sure he'll feet better as the week wears on. Milky already e-mailed to ask how Seamus is doing, and I told a little white lie, that we're getting along famously. Actually, we are, it's just that Seamus isn't his friendly old self.
Some people around me find irony in the fact that I had to hire Phil's Cat-Sitting Service (the kid who lives in the apartment above mine) to take care of Coffee while I'm taking care of Seamus.
By the way, big thanks to Milky's neighbour Yves for pitching in, and stopping by to see Seamus while I'm at work. You see, he's not used to being left alone for any more than four or five hours at a time. I'm often away for eleven hours or more.