They make little sense – dogs. They have their rules, and they’re making them up as they go along. I distinctly felt someone licking my feet that struck out from the covers. It tickled. I woke and questioned my three-year-old boxer at the end of the bed who looked around the room for ideas. “Zeek,” I said, “it’s just you and me here. Fess up. If it makes you feel any better, I realize what a sweet gesture it was. Only now I’m awake and the alarm goes off in 20 minutes.” In a clever ploy, he walked around the bed for a closer look at my face claiming near-sightedness. I decided no harm was actually done and suggested to Zeek that if he finds any intruders licking my feet at a later date, he is to alert me as quickly as possible.