Here's one of the perils of pet ownership they don't tell you about: what if your pet loves someone else better, and that someone else is out of town?
Well, just now at Chateau Steelypips, Emmy is lying stretched out on her side, head down on the floor, looking as abject as possible, and MOANING over and over.
I call her over to be petted and she ignores me. She'd rather just lie there and moan, as though that would magically produce Chad from across state lines.
(Since typing the initial words of this post, I have made the grave error, from a long-term perspective, of giving her some treats in a Kong—not to reward her, but just to occupy her, not that she'll know that.)