A Bark in the Park
She was getting good at this.
Then came the flip of a pancake.
Time to rise.
With great dramatic flair, I rolled to my feet, stretched with my whole body—back legs stiff, front paws reaching, tail waving—and gave a good, strong shake. I trotted past the folding screen and found him just where I expected—Alan, barefoot, focused, flipping pancakes like the fate of breakfast depended on it. He glanced down at me and smirked.
“Morning, champ.”
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