As I type this, my dog Vera licks my forearm down to my fingers. It’s her way of asking for a belly rub. I try to type with one hand so I can use my left hand to scratch the back of her ear to appease her. A few minutes in and she jumps off the bed, retreating to her usual corner. She’s good now.
I still remember the day I saw her. It was a warm summer afternoon, Justine and I…
