"The vet said he was eighty-three pounds," said Mary.

I said, "He doesn't look fat."

"She said she couldn't feel his ribs but in the same breath said he looked great," said Mary.

I said, "She must have a different concept of "can't feel his ribs" than I do."

Sleeping, curled up, on his big round dog bed, Zivon looks like one of those 'potato bugs,' his hind feet tucked beside his front feet. He is peacefully sleeping and dreaming dog dreams. He quivers and whimpers as the adventures and players in his dreams become more and more animated. Is he chasing the local rabbits? He never catches them in real life, but all bets are off when his legs run in his sleep. His tail will tap the floor in a steady rhythm as he dreams of meeting us when we come home. I imagine that he dreams of frolicking with Molly, the black lab, and Mabel, the yellow lab. Or maybe he's trying to get Fred's attention. Fred, a border collie, is too interested in playing fetch with a pinecone and shows no interest in Zivon. He stands up to the bull moose we saw yesterday down by the mailbox in his dreams. The moose followed us for a while, and Zivon was interested in meeting him, but the leash kept them apart.

Whisper W-A-L-K, and he's ready to go. He jumps up, leaving the dreams on the big round dog bed where he'll rejoin them later.