So when I get home yesterday, the "flatmate" is gone. I really don't understand how she got the name "flatmate" because these days, she's anything but flat! She ran off for a weekend rendezvous with someone up in the high mountain trails of this great state. Last known destination Prescott Valley. On my computer there are precise instructions on how to handle both the dog and myself. There was an email. She had prepared 3 separate meals for Paws and purchased a T-bone steak and a frozen lasagna for me to fill the hungry hours until her return, sometime perhaps late Saturday or early Sunday.
Honestly, I like the alone time and it gives me a chance to do anything I want, without imposing. For example, today I'm going to change the oil on my car, since the garage is all mine for the weekend. Here lies the problem though. There's always a problem, isn't there? Paws, showing his deep and thorough love the his master goes into a hibernation phase and will not come out of his closet! He pouts and literally gets depressed when Julie is gone. As I write this, he is laying there all dejected and rejected and all of the other jecteds! He has not come out of his closet in 20 hours now! I'm worried and thinking kidney failure, heart attack, catatonic depression has taken over him. I texted LJ at about 9 AM, but no reply. She has one of those smart phones that goes dead every 5 hours, so I'm not suspecting anything but that, unless she's fallen off the mountain, her usual routine. Last week she fell down a flight of stairs trying to photograph a statue of Jesus and only stopped limping in time for this trip.
Okay, because I didn't finish writing my post, the end is good. LJ finally called, apologizing for not calling sooner and gave me the secret words to use on him. She said, "Ask him if he wants to go for a walk"? I did that and nothing happened. I left the closet and no sooner did I arrive in the kitchen, when I saw him waddle out the bedroom door to go to use the yard for a bathroom. All is saved in the lingering life of Pawpaw! He came back inside and looked at me as if he was expecting a walk. I dazzled him with a portion of pre-prepared steak and chicken in a KFC gravy. He ate, farted and headed back to his closet. Whew, crisis aborted!