Abandonment

I've been abandoned!  My prime carer 'Her Indoors', and my reliable advocate in moments of crisis 'Junior Her', disappeared off for a long weekend in Paris to celebrate 'Junior Her's' eighteenth birthday.  Bloomin' cheek.  They were particularly sneaky and underhand about the packing.  Ever since we all moved house seven years ago, any sign of bags and boxes makes me a bit anxious, so they carefully hid their preparations.  It wasn't until they appeared with suitcases that I was suddenly alerted to the imminent crisis.  I tried wimpering and looking sad, but they both just wished me a cheery goodbye and vanished.  True, I was left with 'Him Indoors' and 'Junior Him', who's still on holiday from university, and we did a bit of male bonding, but I'm used to having my whole family around me.  'Him Indoors' took me for walks, but I confess I sulked a bit and kept stopping.  Anyway, after a few days of having a jolly time and no doubt cavorting with French Poodles, they came back.  I had planned on giving them the cold treatment but I couldn't manage it.  Instead I treated them to the best welcome I could provide in the hope that guilt might stop a repeat performance at any point in the future.  A woman's place is with her dog, in my view.