A strange thing has happened to Finn since Marta got pregnant.
He’s abandoned me.
I rescued that pup from the mean streets of Houston and, in the succeeding five years, have fed, exercised and nurtured him–one time I saved him from from the clutches of a rat-poisoned death in rural Mississippi. But apparently this does not earn a dog’s loyalty like pregnancy does.
The change was gradual. Soon after we found out Marta was pregnant, Finn began hanging out in her office in the mornings instead of mine. I reasoned that the light was better there, which it is. But not long after that, he began following her, instead of me, around the house. The latest change has been the hardest to take. He no longer gets up with me in the morning.
He’ll get up to go running or for a walk, sure, but as soon as we get back to the house he makes a beeline for his doggy bed and there he waits until Marta, too, is ready to get out of bed.
Yesterday, because I am petty, I tested the limits of this new loyalty. Typically I wait to feed Finn until after we’ve had our breakfast. But that morning, sitting alone at the kitchen table, while Finn and Marta slept on in the bedroom, I decided to food might be a way to lure him back to my side.
So I called his name and put some food in the dish.
Finn wandered from Marta’s sleeping side to examine the bowl. He stared at it for a few seconds, looked at me, and promptly turned and wandered back to bed. I swear there was judgement in his paw-steps.
Ten minutes later Marta decided to get up and he followed her, happily snarfing down the bowl of food.
Not that I’m jealous or anything.