Chapter Thirteen
Travis
Travis turned in bed and looked at the clock. Five o’clock sharp. He smiled at his ability to wake at exactly the same time each morning, no matter what the circumstances. One of his dogs—he knew it was Amos—adjusted his position on the rug, ready to pounce on the bed when told it was okay.
“Hey, guys!” Travis called out.
All five dogs jumped to attention, started the usual chorus of excited whimpers and yelps, shook themselves and jumped on the bed, each vying for the coveted spot closest to Travis’ face. Travis made a point each morning to pet each one, say their name, and then wrestle them all into a happy frenzy.
They knew the drill from that point. It was time to run down the hall and wait for Travis to open the door for them. He’d turn on the patio and
