And now a message from Danny’s good friend, Barb.
When my dog Peri first got me, she woke me before dawn to take care of all her important stuff—walking Peri, feeding Peri, playing with Peri, walking Peri again, giving Peri her treats, and oh yeah…dropping my daughter at high school and heading into work. Peri was fine with that schedule and doesn’t see any reason for it to change just because said daughter is now a college graduate and I’m retired.
Every morning about half an hour before dawn—she’s never differentiated between weekdays and weekends, and sees no reason to start doing so now—the dance begins. It starts slowly, a formal gavotte with maybe a little brush against the side of the bed, followed by a cold wet nose pressed against some innocently somnolent bit of me that isn’t expecting up-close and personal dog snout contact.
If that doesn’t result in me leaping to my…
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