it IS hard to come home

It was three weeks of spending time in favourite places with favourite people. And seeing new sights. And eating good food. And relaxing.
It’s hard to leave that behind. To return to your non-holiday life. To come home.
It’s no wonder the dog is depressed.
Yes, after her three week sojourn in the country with her grandparents while we were away, the bitter reality of ‘business as usual’ has hit our dog particularly hard.
She mopes. She sighs. She won’t eat her dinner.
She gives us sidelong glances which seem to say “you are not my people. This is not my place. Take me back to the other people and the other place. It was good there.”
She has post holiday blues.
(I think I’ll get mine when the Visa card bill comes in.)