White Dog insisted on going into her "usual" waiting room--stepping around Scot to go inside the lead kennel. YoYoMa was not so picky; he pawed around to make sure the cushion was fluffy and then settled down to be called for his appointment.
It was spa day. Scot made sure the top dogs of the White Dog Army had nice cool water and some chews while they waited, then left them to chat with the other pups and catch up on the neighborhood gossip.
Just after lunch, Steve picked them up. The shining white Angels that came through the door drew White Dog Army sniffs and wags. Gone was Yo's shaggy shedding coat and his owl feet, replaced by flowing spun silk that glistened and feet that had defined shape and contour. White Dog was the essence of perfection; her furs so soft you could not resist burying your face in her side. "Please! Momma! My furs! Don't tangle my furs!"