I didn't just spring Cody on Frannie, I gave her the opportunity to vet him through visits to his foster home and play-dates. The pooches got along great. They sniffed each others' behinds, zoomed around the yard, and dragged each other by their necks. A sure sign they loved each other. Perfect.
Not. It seems that in Frannie's eyes play-date versus live-in are two very different things. It's three months later and Frannie refuses to play with Cody, she gobbles his food, steals his milk bones, and leans into my legs to prevent him from getting near me. Everywhere I go,Frannie is there, leaning and gazing up looking betrayed. At first I thought she was in a post-adoptive snit but as time wears on I have come to realize it's something much greater than that.
Frannie is having a full blown sweet potato spell. A phrase coined by my great-grandmother when Uncle Bud regularly exhibited his unwillingness to eat sweet potatoes by going into a prolonged, publicly displayed pout.
I'm hoping Frannie gets over it soon because I can feel my own spell coming on. Not only do I now have a Velcro-dog with separation anxiety, I have a bored puppy who expects me to entertain him.
Cody and Frannie waiting for a treat
