I spent this past week dog-sitting Grace and Max. The first couple days are always a piece of cake. I trick myself into thinking I'm on vacation myself, in a really big hotel suite with cable television and a full refrigerator. The dogs enjoy it as well. Grace is all "hey, it's that guy who thinks we're too cute to punish when we do something wrong" and Max nods knowingly and replies "yeah, and he's generous with the treats!" Of course those halcyon days must inevitably come to an end, usually halfway through the third day. That's when the countless little things I do differently start adding up, and you can see them switch gears and begin wondering when their owners are coming back. Sometimes there's pouting. It's sad to watch, and frustrating because there's nothing I can do to make them understand it's only a few more days. But we muddle through it somehow, and when, finally, they hear the sound of a key in the door you never saw two happier dogs.