Last week we had a young friend Ruth to stay. She had been let down in her holiday plans by her pals and needed to get away. She works in a care home and finds it hard work. She came to us at the Moulin.
She and Rufus took to each other straight away. It was love at first sight. Ruth brought Rufus a present of a squeaky duck. He loves that too.
Ruthie and Roofie were inseparable. She played ball with him, took him for walks around the Moulin when we were too busy. They sat cooched up on the sofa when we watched DVDS in the evening. I was ignored but I wasn't jealous as I knew it was only for the week.
We took her back to Toulouse last Sunday to catch her flight home.
He hasn't been the same dog since. He has mooched about the house looking forlorn. He runs away from strangers in panic. He has lost interest in all his toys except the duck.
Is he depressed or can he be ill? He is eating okay and, in fact, this morning showed signs of being his old, boisterous self. He played with his ball for a bit, throwing it in the air and running after it so perhaps he is over his 'black dog' days.
