One of the things that I worried most about in prison was my dog. He was already a pretty old dog when I was incarcerated and sadly did not survive until my release. He lived with my parents until he died. I ride motorcycles and often rode mine to commute. My dad tells me that until he passed away my dog would always run to the front gate when he heard a motorcycle approach and would mournfully look after it as it passed.
While he loved to play fetch and chase frisbees when I played with him, he never again did that once I left. My dad says that he was a faithful companion to him and vigilant watchdog, but he was forever morose and sad.
I am sorry that irresponsibility of my actions put him through that.
Fascinating.... our new dog, a stray we took in at Christmas, is a very mournful dog. I don't know what he's seen or where he came from, but he's lost something. He can be gregarious, but he is often very depressed. I hope he finds peace here.