I watched her drop her head and smiled. I'd learned early on that the dogfood symbolized something to her. I never quite figured out what, but I knew ...t was a powerful button. She hated it. I, on the other hand, loved it. It had been weeks since I'd had to scramble up eggs for her or pour her a bowl of cereal. This way was a lot cheaper for me and a lot more humiliating for me.There was a three-minute sand timer on the counter. I picked it up and set it on the floor right beside the dogfood. He would wash her hair gently, careful not to get any soap in her eyes…wash every inch of her body in and out. Then he would dry her with a large, warm, fluffy towel. Dry her hair…brush it carefully. Dress her in a warm gown…carry her back to his bed…tuck her in…kiss her good night. Hold her in his arms until she drifted off to sleep. Not a word would pass between them from the moment he came on her face until she fell asleep. It seemed like such an odd ritual, it had confused her at first. It. More

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