By Heather LeRoss
I’m the best dog. I don’t pee inside (unless the lady who smells good pets me). I hardly bark. I am willing to cuddle everyone here. I try to ensure that I curl up on as many people’s laps as possible each day. I don’t understand why they won’t let me outside to play, since I am so good and wouldn’t run away. The lady who smells good comes. I pee a little and try to lick her hand. She hands me the little cup.
“Mr. Callum, DON’T lick me. Take your meds. You’re NOT a dog!” I lick her anyway.
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