White Dog rested her face against my forehead. Then she announced to the White Dog Army, "oh no! Momma has sickies." She was right, I woke feeling like I had spent the night being run over by gravel trucks...my head ached and my throat was scratchy...sickies for sure; I just wanted a warm blankie and sleep.
Then she looked down at my untouched breakfast and made a second announcement: "Momma feels too yucky to eat; we must not let this delicious meal dad made go to waste."