What kind he asked, she’d thought to say most popular.
Archie was low, she'd read that stressed dogs like reggae.
He’d kept her going during the treatment, licked her face in the morning, a paw on the knee at bedtime. He hated her being in the hospital.
Now they’d released her, she thought Archie would be delighted. He was lethargic, sat beside her looking sad.
The CD worked a treat.
Archie was quieter than usual but they had a wee dance morning and evening.