As we gradually pack our bags for Thailand, the dogs begin to feel a sense of pending doom. They see the suitcases in the closet and know that we will be leaving them soon. Will we ever come back, they wonder? Is this the last we will see “mom” and “dad?” What did we do wrong for them to abandon us? Tinker, our oldest schnauzer, who we “rescued” from the shelter over thirteen years ago, will never forget her time alone in the woods, covered in dirt from head to toe when they brought her to the kennel. In fact, we thought we were adopting a brown rather than black dog. It made no difference, the attraction was through her eyes.

Tinker suffers from separation anxiety every time we leave the house, and refuses to look us in the eye as we go off on each travel excursion. It’s clearly “Doggie Depression,” and who can blame her for any concern. She’s well taken care of when we leave, but it’s just not the same. I suppose she temporarily gets over her poutiness with every meal she has, but what if the next one doesn’t come? She’s become more impatient with age, like me, and incessantly barks to remind us of feeding time. Her reputation as “The Poopingest Pup on the Planet” is dependent on input. From her perspective, there is never enough food in her bowl and consequently she closely shadows me every time I get up, hoping that I’ll open the refrigerator and satisfy her need to eat again.

Tally, her younger schnauzer sister, only stirs if a door is opened; otherwise she stays to herself. Unlike Tinker, she is not constantly begging for morsels and sometimes requires a lot of coaxing to even eat her dinner. Her goal is simply to get outside the house and therefore carefully monitors all door activity. No walk is ever long enough for her and she fights the leash to try to lead us where she wants to go. She’ll even grab the leash and pull with her teeth as if she’s taking herself on a walk. Her “Doggie Depression” comes from not getting enough exercise, often confined to “good bed” with her head resting between her paws and a sad look on her face. She’s always excited to see the pet sitter and anticipates the potential of a long walk from a younger human. Depression solved!

Gimpy Tinker needs the stroller anymore to keep up with the pace and distance. She would probably rather stay near the refrigerator, but doesn’t want to miss out on any companionship. She tries her best to match Tally’s gait, but her fat little tummy nearly drags on the ground. She also struggles with stairs, and once her business is done is ready to head “back to the barn.” Even though both of our schnauzers are close to the same 25 pound weight, Tally’s legs are longer like a thoroughbred. She still tries to get Tinker to interact like she once did through playful lunges, but “Hundred-Five-Year-Old” Tinker is just too old for puppy gymnastics. 9-year old Tally has to often rely on passing puppies to get her playtime fix, however she often shies away from big dogs and obnoxiously barks at those her size. It’s an effort to get them stirred up, as she circles for an attack. She acts like a puppy with boundless energy, and stalls on relief functions to maximize her time outdoors.

With Tally, little input means limited output, and she’s always careful to choose a spot away from the beaten path. She does her duty while showing strong signs of modesty, while Tinker goes anywhere at anytime. She will stop in the middle of the street if nature calls, while Tally saves it for a patch of ivy or tall grass where she can partially hide. She also seems to prefer going on the side of a hill, climbing like a mountain goat. Tinker, on the other hand, does not linger, displaying an urgency to get off her aging feet and lay down near her dog bowl. If we’re not traveling her “Doggie Depression” is limited to lack of food.