“I am sorry, Dora lies at my feet when we fight instead of yours. She does do that.”

“Well I’m not surprised. I know she’s treasonous. I know she can’t be trusted. I felt sorry for her scrawny ass so I took her on but I never believed a word she said. No ma’am, that dog is a liar. She’ll tell you anything and I mean anything at all…”

Dora sleeps all day, like maybe 22 or 23 hours a day. When someone comes to the front door, she runs to see who it is but if I come home and come in through the garage she just lies in her bed and waits for me to get in here.

The other night when I drove to pick up the soldier so he could be home for the night, we came in late through the garage. Dora didn’t stir.

“Dora!” I yelled. “DOR-A! Your dad is here, get in here and see your dad!”

Nothing.

“DORA!” I yelled sharply. “Your dad, I said!”

All the sudden, here come Dora creeping down the hall. Never seen anything like it in my life. She was all humped up like a hunchback with her front legs too close to her back legs. I am telling you this dog was walking all funky because she can run like the wind but here she comes down the hall walking all cock-eyed and sideways, with her head turned.

I looked over at the soldier and he looked over at me. Dora got right up next to him, lifted her snout to say hello and then lie down and rolled over to expose her stomach for petting. I just shook my head.

A week later: ‘What about her creeping down the hall the way she did? What about that dog love?”

“Dog love? Dog drama, you mean. That’s just Dora being dramatic but I never fell for her Bette Davis Eyes. That dog is not fooling me, P, I am onto her tricks.”