Rescue Dog
What on earth is Jimmy doing?
I raised my head from the pillow. My husband, Graham, and I had been lying in bed that June morning at our home in Kinross, Scotland, when our greyhound, Jimmy, shoved his wet nose into my armpit, sniffing around as if it was his job.
“Stop—that tickles!” I said, pushing him away.
But Jimmy was relentless. Sniff, sniff. What had gotten into him?
Our sweet Jimmy was usually so polite and docile. That’s what first
