Going to the Dogs
How to begin? Well, that’s what I’m writing about, isn’t it? Where to begin, how to end. I put up with this stuff from my dogs every day. I walk three of them—Otto, my 900-pound Weimaraner; Skeeter, my son’s seriously bloated toy fox terrier; and Dottie, my mother-in-law’s 900-year-old border…