Told you he finally ate breakfast then grumped a bit. Then he slept like Rip van Winkle for several hours.
The modem went down, so I had to go mess with it. When I got back, Raebert was gone. I found him on his bed in the bedroom. He never goes there till 8:30 at night, his preferred bedtime for everyone.
I tried to jolly him out of his mopery, but Elliott complicated everything. Actually, Elliott’s as upset as Raebert about the weekend. He’s been knocking everything off every flat surface he can find. (Who said boys are easy?) When I was talking to Raebert, Elliott thought he should, you know, spark Raebert up a bit with his paw. Raebert’s paw is bigger. He swept Elliott (his friend) completely away with one sweep of his front left leg. End of conversation.
The pic above dates from a few minutes ago when Raebert plodded from the bedroom back to the couch with Elliott in dour attendance.
But as I was writing the update, Elliott moved on to the bathroom to knock my razor off the counter, and Raebert returned to the bedroom and flung himself down there with a majestically self-pitying groan.
My wife said it best. They’re making us pay. And doing a damn good job of it too.
UPDATE: He came back from the bedroom, got on the couch, grumbled when I petted him, removed himself to his own personal love seat (deerhounds have those), and then returned to the bedroom, where he’s sulking now.
UPDATE 2: Yeah. More back and forth. But we had a talk. After which he licked my hand. Elliott teased him and he was okay with that. The clouds might be lifting. Except that Mommy is late. Because she broke her arm in Maryland. I know. Life is a total bitch, isn’t it? Why I’ll be abandoning him yet again this evening, at a time he’s not used to, to rescue Mommy from the train. Context. Who cares about Raebert’s snit? He’d better be thinking, as I am, about how to help Mommy get some sleep tonight. So there.