Max, Mr. intuitive, observer supreme, current dog of less funk and filth ALWAYS knows when I'm leaving for the weekend.
He 's like glue to my side and dogs my footsteps the entire time I'm rushing about the house trying to sort out items for the trip.
The coup de grace is when the "big bag" gets hauled out of the attic.
*key dramatic music*
He HATES that big bag with the flowery handles ... absolutely despises it! Poor fella probably thinks that this time (out of every other time) I'm never coming back!
And no amount of reassurance by Pos and the kids can convince him that that ain't so ...