For a couple days now, I’ve been having trouble getting out the door for work.  Gus gets up as early as I do (roughly 6-ish) and chills with some breakfast while I get ready.  When it’s time for me to head out, I usually would give him a smooch, pat him on the head, tell him to have a good day, and off I go.

Lately, he’s been chasing me out the back door, yelling and screaming, telling me not to go.

Today was no different.  Despite my attempts to change the routine a little, spend some additional time with him, explain to him that I’m coming home soon and he’s going to have a fun day, once I closed the door, I saw 45 lbs of blonde madness hit the door window with end-of-days-shrieks of terror.

So I unlocked the door, headed back in, and we had the same sort of chat.  I’ll be home soon.  I’d never leave him.  He’s a good boy.  You get the idea.

So I plopped him on the couch and gave him some cartoons to watch.  As I tossled his hair and began to walk away, he screamed,


“Gus, Gus, calm down – what is it?”

“Take an apple, Daddy.”

I laughed out loud and said, “good advice, kid.”

“Yeah” he said.

And I stepped out the back door without incident.