Whenever my roommate leaves the house, Sophie-dog, Labradoodle-in-residence, flops over as shown in the photo above and acts as if all will to live has left her body. The roommate is Sophie-dog’s favorite human in the house. Without the roommate, there’s just no reason to exist, apparently.
Oh, eventually Sophie-dog will become desperate enough to seek out my company for cuddles, pets, and scratches. Not for a long time, though. First, there are several hours of “I’m wasting away. I’m dying by inches without my human. There’s no point to any of this anymore. This breathing I’m doing? It’s just for show. There’s no purpose to any signs of life in this fuzzy body.”
Finally, after she’s bored both herself and me to tears, Sophie-dog will haul herself to her feet with great effort and trudge over to my chair (or the couch, depending on where I’m sitting.) She’ll push her muzzle under my hand and then drop her chin into my lap.
“Pet me now. It’s been days since I had any sign of affection. Days.”
“I recall petting you just this morning, Sophie-dog. During breakfast. You remember breakfast, right?” I tell her, scratching behind her floppy ears. Sophie-dogs like being scratched behind their ears.
“Days. There’s no love for Labradoodles in this house. None, I tell you.”
“None,” I confirm, petting the top of her head. She could really use a trim. I can barely see her eyes under her shaggy eyebrows.
At this point, Sophie-dog flops down at my feet. “I’ll just keep your feet warm until the entropy of the universe takes its inevitable course. It shouldn’t be long now.”
“You’re probably right, Sophie-dog.”