Cutty Bark: Moanday: Sep-ARF-ration Anxiety

One of the things people like best about dogs is their loyalty -- in my experience, what others call 'loyalty' is usually an eye to the main chance, but if it makes us feel good we can call it 'loyalty' or 'devotion' or 'Matilda', for that matter.

Most dogs I've known have ever-so-slightly preferred their own human family to any other humans that happened to be around unless food was involved, in which case all bets are off, but I've never had one that actually pined for one particular person...until I owned Archy. Now I'm starting to worry a bit for his mental health, and a lot for mine.

You see, the Man of the House is away at the moment on a ski trip. As a New Englander, I refuse to pay for the privilege of being cold because it goes against every belief I hold dear, and so I have remained at home, enjoying the watery English spring with my menagerie.

Sure, I miss the M.o.t.H. when he's not here, but I can certainly cope. I've even got a system for sleeping alone that I plan to market to the wives of over-the-road truckers and travelling brush-salesmen. Patent is pending so I can't reveal too much about that but it does involve photo-sonic technology (sleeping with an IPod and all the lights on).

FiFi is the member of our pack who loves the M.o.t.H. the most, so I always expect her to freak when he's away. However, FiFi is also a raging sociopath and as such feels a far stronger emotional connection to things than people. If her food dish is full, if pink blanky is clean and positioned correctly in her crate, and if her soft toy, Minty Dog, is available for torturing, the rest of the world could vanish a la the 'Taken' series, and it would take Fi three-to-five days to notice.

The ferrets don't care who comes or goes because they're ferrets.

Archy, however, is another story. Archy tends to be a mama's dog, so I was completely unprepared for the Medieval level of self-torture and introspection that the little guy would engage in when his dad went away.

Last night I literally only got about three hours of sleep because Archy was keening through the entire night. I tried putting him in his crate, where he usually sleeps without any fuss. Big mistake, because I'd just created the world's first interiorly activated drum kit. He bashed and thrashed out his anguish by kicking on the walls, with an occasional 'washboard' effect provided by runnning his claws against the metal grate on the door.

Then I tried letting him roam, but this was another false step, because instead of hopping into the people-bed as he usually would if given half an opportunity, he stood by the bedroom door and pawed at it, whining all the while, as if that would mystically summon his dad down from the mountain to which he'd so callously disappeared.

I gave him chews and treats, and just looked at me like, 'These are not my dad.'

Finally, my last option was to practice 'holding' therapy, which I believe is rather controversial in its use on human children. I wrastled him into bed and grabbed him in some kind of sleeper hold, where he whined on and on until he passed out from sheer self-induced stress. Then he'd wake again after an hour or so, and we'd repeat the process.

Good times.

This morning, I said, 'Archy, it's a beautiful day. Your dad will be back in less than a week, and contrary to what you seem to think, you didn't do anything to make him leave. You have to snap out of this funk. Why don't you get outside and take in some of the beauties of nature, for they will surely grant you some measure of transcendental comfort.'

Hmm, 'a host of golden things-to-pee-on' -- that's Woofsworth, isn't it?

Arch went out for about five minutes and came back with an ineffable look of tender sorrow.

'I don't think I'm very good at transchending,' he sighed.

I thought for a moment and then said, 'Well, FiFi isn't sad at all. Look at her over there with Minty Dog. Why don't you go get Monkey and see if a cuddle with him will cheer you up?'

Nuffing pershonal, Monkey, but I'm jusht not feeling it today.

'Monkey doeshn't cuddle me back,' said Archy after a brief experiment. 'Not like [trembly voice] my dad.'

'Okay,' I said. 'Then why don't you go see Bongo? He'll cuddle you back, if he's not too busy bonging around.'

I say, Old Bean, I was trying to snooze.

Archy returned woebegone as ever. 'Bongo would rather shleep than cuddle with me,' he sighed.

I was running out of suggestions, so I decided to do some serious blue-sky thinking.

'FiFi just woke up from a four-hour nap,' I said. 'Why don't you try her?'

'Really?' said Archy, looking a bit petrified. 'Well, maybe...if you shay sho...'

Get this...thing...off me

Archy returned,visibly shaking in terror. 'I don't think it'sh a good idea to cuddle with Fi unlessh she expresshly invites you to,' he informed me.

'Okay,' I said, 'so what about me? I'll give you a cuddle any time.'

'No thanks, Mum,' said Archy. 'I'll just wait until Dad gets back.'