You know it's bad when even your dog rejects you. My husband and I used to have the most wonderful dog on earth, named Zenith--a Catahoula Leopard Dog that we were blessed to find at a local shelter. We had never heard of the breed but we got her as a birthday gift for our then 3 year old son, and she was am amazing dog-a once-in-a-lifetime dog who was so smart, she trained us, and so comical and sweet and manipulative--but in a nice way--we adored her. She passed away two years ago from cancer of the spleen, and our hearts were broken when we had to put her down. SO broken in fact that we all went out immediately to get a new dog, as we just could not stand the idea of not having one, and Max, the other dog, belonged to my middle son, Tanner.
So, we ended up with a small German Shepherd-cattle dog mix named Sukey. She's a sweet dog, a bit of a troublemaker, likes to chew things up, but we loved her. Not like Zenith, no, but she was a friend. She always slept on the bed between Robert and I.
Well, since my youngest son Daniel--who has been sleeping in my room at the foot of the bed since his dad died most nights--began usurping her spot on the bed, she refuses to sleep anywhere on the bed. She umped up as usual the first night we came back from the hospital in Houston where Robert died, and when she saw it was Daniel and not Robert, she hopped right back down. She won't come back ever since. I feel extra-rejected somehow.