Doggone

This is how Toby looks when I leave for work. All folorn. He's very good at it.

Little does he realise, however, that I am fully aware that he's trying to pull the wool over my eyes. Little does he know, that I am fully aware that my dad comes and picks him up after I've gone, spoils him rotten all day and then drops him off at home before I get back. We're both very lucky. He still does all the amateur dramatics and "woe is me" palaver when I go though. I really think that he thinks I don't know what goes on when I'm not there.

I might add at this point that that is my comfy spare bed he's lying on, not his own.