Separation Anxiety

For the first time in over a year, husband-dear and I got to enjoy a weekend away together. No kids, no dog, no chores, nothing. Just him, me, and a cabin in Ft. Yago national park. Oh yes, and a mountainbike race on Sunday. And a crate full of work for me. But other than that, it was bliss. There was a lake behind our cabin, woods all around it, and we were only half an hour away from the wonderfully quirky college town of Athens and one hour from the famous Stone Mountain. It was absolutely delightful to only do things we really wanted to (and work, of course, although that was definitely less delightful). I had forgotten how much time you can spend on a weekend running errands, cleaning the house, and taking care of your dependents. Sure, being away for a weekend means the house isn't clean, the laundry didn't get done, and there are only enough groceries to last us until Tuesday, but not having to deal with a hyperactive dog at 6:30 in the morning, make macaroni and cheese at least once, or wonder why things get dusty so quickly was really worth it.

But having any sort of parental responsibility also means that you spend some time of your "quiet weekend away" wondering if all the family members you didn't take along are doing alright. Funnily enough, it wasn't the kids I was worried about, but our wonderful canine child, Zoe. Zoe had never boarded until this weekend, and we were a little worried whether or not she was going to be alright. Husband-dear was convinced she would be fine. I was not. Unfortunately, I turned out to be right.

You see, Zoe seems to suffer from separation anxiety. You would never know it from the way she does not listen to us, will get mad at us, and destroys our favorite possessions at will, but apparently she is overattached to her humans. And this means she will bring the house down if mom and dad are gone.

We decided to board Zoe with Ruth, her trainer from PetSmart. Ruth has six other dogs, and a yard full of doggy friendly toys, a digging put, and an agility garden. Zoe adores Ruth, and so we thought it was going to be just fine. And it was. Until Ruth tried to get Zoe to eat or sleep, because our little pooch refused to do either. And when baby ain't sleeping, ain't nobody sleeping. Our little black devil howled and whined through both nights, keeping everyone in Ruth's house (and probably those living within a few miles of her too) wide awake. Nothing could get her to settle down, no treats, no cuddling, nothing.

So when we came to pick Zoe up last night, we were met by a red-rimmed Ruth and a very tired Zoe, who, in spite of her fatigue, still managed to very clearly convey her anger at us by completely ignoring both mommy and daddy. She spent all of last night half-dead to the world, following us all around the house on wobbly legs, and flopping down wherever we were. We thought she was fine this morning, until she refused to look at us when we left. Zoe doesn't just have separation anxiety, she also has quite a temper.

Now we're confronted with the problem of what to do when we leave town next time. Something tells me Ruth won't be boarding our little dogg-dog anytime soon, and to be honest, I'm not sure who will. And how do you get a dog to get over their separation anxiety? Is there such thing as doggy-therapy? Or doggy-medication? Or perhaps doggy-hypnosis? Who knew that dogs could have psychological issues anyway?

Let's start by seeing when our little princess will acknowledge our presence again. Then we'll take it from there.