Morning folks, it’s me, Danny the Dog. I’m here today to tell ya’all of my two days of misery.

Perhaps I should start at the beginning. I mean the very beginning.

Ever since I was a little shaver, my human has always kept me near. He worked for himself, so I could always go with him on his jobs. We’ve been together for many years and I’ve gotten used to him. When I was younger, he did leave me home on occasion, but I didn’t care. There was a cat next door that sat under a tree all day and I used to watch from the window. That was fun, and it kept me occupied. Or I would go out in the yard and commune with nature. We had a fenced-in yard and a doggie door at the time. Anyway, here’s the thing. Somewhere along the way, I got used to having him around. Oh, I forgot to mention that seven years ago he stopped working and became a writer, so he’s home all the time now; he never goes out. Maybe that’s it, but whatever it is, I like having him around. But don’t ask me why.

So here’s what happened. The night before last, he went out for the first time in a long time without taking me. As he was leaving, I asked him to take me with him. I know I was barking, but he understands me. We live on a boat now and he said only, “STAY!” I mean, is that anyway to speak to man’s best friend?

Well, he was gone only a few hours, and when he came home, I wagged my tail until it almost fell off.

After that, I reckoned everything would go back to normal. But no. Andrew, that’s my human’s name, got up bright and early the next morning (something he never does), and after I took him for his walk, he started to leave me … again! I couldn’t believe it, not again. It was invidious of him to say the least. And I let Andrew know it in no uncertain terms. Well, it didn’t matter what I said; he left me alone anyway. And this time he was gone for most of the day.

I was very unhappy—and kind of lonely—so the only thing I could think to do was get up on his chair, where he sits when he writes, and spend the day there waiting for the big galoot to come home.

When he finally came in, I cried a little bit (the first time in my life). But I’ve got to hand it to the old guy. When he saw how lonely I had been, he told me that he would never leave me alone again for more than a few minutes. I don’t know what minutes are, but by his voice and the way he scratched my neck, I know he loves me. So I forgave him.

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