Something rough and wet strokes my
cheek. It's 5:30 am. The wake-up alarm system is in perfect order –
a gentle lick from Pippa, a slobbery slurp from Scout.
I groan and hide under the covers.
“Come on, please, just 15 more minutes?”
Plan B goes into effect. A forty-pound
weight (Pippa) takes up residence on my stomach and canine claws (Scout's) scrape
furiously at the pillow and my hair. “All right, all right!! I'm
up!!” Plan B always works.
You see how it is? All through the ages they've said that Man is Master, and Dog is... well, dog. But I don't think so.&... More