My mother used to complain that my dog was bruising and breaking veins in her legs with all the tail wagging... But then there were times that I truly believed she liked the dog better than me. When we'd get a dinner invitation, she made sure that we were bringin Sally with us. She'd drive over with leftover steak in a doggie bag for her... We couldn't afford much steak in those days, and I never divulged to my mother who really ate the steak.
