“When did I get a dog?” Lisa Fitzgerald raked a hand down her face in an attempt to clear her blurry vision and remove the slobber being generously deposited on her chin. Her head pounded as she tried to sit up.
A small dog jumped onto her chest, leaving four parallel welts where the deep V of her top left her skin unprotected. Small, maybe, but Lisa was unsteady enough to lose her balance and resume her recumbent position on the hard laminate floor.
“All right, all right. Get off me, will you?” The thing clawing at her resembled a sled dog in miniature, not much bigger than the hands she was using to push it away. He—no, she—sat back and c****d her head to one side, staring at Lisa with a wounded expression. Lisa would have laughed had her head not hurt so much.
Judging from its size,
