Writing to stop depression

We Don't Deserve Dogs.

I nose at my girl's door. She has been in there a while. It smells like sweat-crackers-dirt.

I thump my tail against the wall. The door doesn't open. I sniff the laundry piled up outside her door. It does not open.

I bark. Walk! I haven't had one all day. She walks me all the time in the summer. Twice a day.

I wait. She comes out twice to get snacks and water. Steps outside once. I wait for her to reach for the leash...

And she's back inside. She's out for two seconds before she's back inside. Too warm. Too warm? It's never to warm. She walks me with a jacket on! Big black thing, skinny like short fur. Smells like sweat-paint-Mom-her. It's been hanging on a chair in the kitchen for two days. I watch her pass it and go upstairs. I wag my tail.

Cuddles? She cuddles sometimes. Paces the house and sees me on a bed and pets me. Sometimes lies down on the bed with me. Tired, tired girl.

She stumbles up to her room. Closes the door. I whine. Then I sit out and wait. Wait wait wait wait wait.

Where are you, girl? Our walk is waiting! Trees and grass and wide open skies to explore! Foxes and birds to chase. Deer! Squirrels! Flowers and mud and tall grass and big roots, paths and bushes and bright clear sun! Come join me!

....

...

She stays in her room. Day passes. She does not walk.