She paws at the crate in the fan caressed room. I wake to hear soft pleading whimpers and I know that I need to rise out of bed; even though my body begs to linger under warm plaid covers. Somehow I manage the impossible feat of lifting my legs up and over the queen sized bed. Slowly I shuffle to her crate, lift the latches, and let her lick happily at my fingertips. She pushes around my ankles, feet, toes, and moves quickly to the sliding glass door. My eyes are still sealed with sleep as goose-flesh rise up over my skin. And I think to myself about the changing of seasons.
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