AdPock

Billy bolts awake with a frown. Nothing like a worry alarm clock. He doesn’t mean to feel uneasy. But feelings have a way. Physically speaking, waking is just hard. Particularly for one who dreams so deeply. Fido, on the other hand, chomps the marrow at the bit, runs circles around the dining room table, leash in mouth. Against such waking instincts, Billy rises. He puts on his pants. First one leg, then the next. Like many a great man, though not many a great Scott! He slips on his shoes. Grabs the leash and poop bags. After some effort to slow down Fido’s circuitous sprint, Billy finally affixes his leash. Which means it’s go time. Fido calmly takes his place next to his master, dutiful as a soldier. They give each other that “go time” look, and hit the street in search of coffee. Not two doors down, they spy The Scowler. You’d think two people and two dogs who see each other every day could at least do something to acknowledge as much. But that stopped long ago; sh...