Ruffly Speaking
“I told Leah. “Those were her exact words.”“Matthew is being sort of a jerk,” Leah said.It was Saturday morning, and we were heading south on Route 128 on our way to a show-and-go at the Canine Emporium in North Attleboro. I was driving. Leah, still half asleep, was drinking coffee. I’d been awake for hours. By eight o’clock, Steve and I had had breakfast and taken a shower. (Always, always shower with your vet. Clean profession.) When Steve left for work, I walked the dogs, tidied up the house,... and made two unsuccessful attempts to rouse Leah, who was displaying that notorious sign of incipient moral dissipation, sleeping late when you ought to be out showing your dog. The salvation of youth requires radical measures. Rapping on the door and calling her name had done no good at all, and the dogs were pestering to get into her room, anyway. All I did was open the door. The credit for wresting Leah’s slothful soul from Satan belongs exclusively to Rowdy and Kimi. “How is Matthew being a jerk?”MoreLess
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