Waiting for Robert

The overabundance of togetherness my being currently unemployed has afforded me and Garfunkel is, in a word, trying. As you know, I just love the Funk to bits but being at home with him so much over the past couple months has made me realize one thing: I enjoy 'me' time way too much to have kids! I can barely survive a pet. Or maybe just this pet. Garfunkel has always been a sensitive soul, very attached to those he loves. I do my best to entertain him during the day but the dog is just so darn clingy! I try to play with him and (hopefully) wear him out but it's no good. For some reason, in the Funk's mind, my being at home means he has to be a despondent soul unwilling to play or do much of anything for more than 5 minutes. He pretty much spends all his time following me around... everywhere... and then proceeds to plop onto the floor with a big sigh, staring into space. If I get him out of the house he's better - he's better on a walk with me and will usually play with me more at my parents' house. But I can't spend all day on a walk so back we traipse to the house, only to continue the mope-a-thon until Robert gets home. Once both of his people are in the house, Garfunkel comes alive. It's magic!

(Can you hear the heavy breathing @ the 8 second mark? Mr. Melodrama.)