She was actually pretty emotionally traumatized. I lived in a fairly small apartment at the time, and she would wander into the next room, realize she couldn't see me, and just start crying.
I would try to call her back, so she could find her way back to me, but she would just sit in the next room and cry until I physically went into the room she was in. Then she would run to me and rub against my legs and follow me back out. Then she'd be calm for 30 minutes or so, then wander into the next room, repeat. It was worst the first week she was back, and gradually got better until she could handle leaving the room and coming back to find me when she wanted company again on her own.
Yeah, but maybe they were the best seven days of her life, worth more than a decade living indoors.
It just seems to absurd to decide what's "best" for them. By what standard?