White Dog is stretched out on the couch, breeze blowing over her from the open window, three different
chewies arrayed around her, and the remains of dinner in her bowl. She wears such a contented look as she naps that Steve and I remark in unplanned unison, "Now
that's one happy baby!" White Dog rolls on her back, still dozing, and offers her belly to Steve for rubbing. It is a scene of total domestic tranquility.
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