Mulligan and I are both creatures of habit. My morning routine is so predictable that by the time my alarm goes off, he's ready to go. He hops impatiently, his front feet bouncing off of the ceramic tile by the door, waiting for me to pick up my keys.
Unfortunately for him, not all days begin with an invitation to jump in the truck. Some days are filled with meetings, while other days are so long or labor intensive that Mulligan cannot be included. On these days I have to tell him to stay. His excited half barks turn to pathetic whines. He hangs his head and gives a disgruntled moan as he retreats to his chair to pout. When was the last time any of us complained and pouted when we were given an unexpected day off?