Poor Carson

Carson has been the Velcro dog since Leidy left, following me closely everywhere I go. I think he expects me to produce Leidy out of my pocket, or open the door and let her in. When I went to the gym today, he didn't want to go outside, but insisted on laying under the dining room table, a reproachful look on his face. I feel very guilty, being as I am the one who sent her to Oregon and Huxley. Granted, it was for a good cause, but my Carson seems to be quite unhappy.