Poor Baby!

One of my friends came over tonight. She is also one of Martha's faves. Before the friend left, I put Martha in her crate because the dog was getting a little rambunctious.

After the friend left, I let Martha out of the crate and she made a beeline for the living room and ran straight to the chair where my friend had sat. When Martha realized the friend wasn't there she ran down the stairs, pawed at the door and began to cry. I took Martha outside and she hopped into the patio chair where the friend had smoked a cigarette.

"She went home, Martha," I said. "She's gone."

Martha, unperturbed, searched the entire property, but then finally came back to me. I let her inside; she ran into her crate and refuses to come out.

"Don't worry, Martha. She'll come back."

Martha looks like someone just killed her mother. I feel so bad for her.