Wheeling Gull Isle canine excavation services

The pearl squeaks in protest and tries to flail herself sternal, spindly limbs windmilling wildly, but Six has her securely pinned. She resigns herself to life as a pancake, and heaves a whuffling, dramatic sigh that stirs the root’s little white hairs. “Yes. Yes, Six. I’m dead,” she conveys, trying to make her body as limp and lifeless as possible to prove her point. She squeezes her eyes shut, but tries to peek through the cracks.

Six’s muzzle is dangerously close to the ticklish spot at the curve of Koi’s throat. She’s ticklish everywhere, all the time, but her neck and belly are particularly sensitive — and when his cold nose pokes into the warm hollow just beneath her chin, a peal of silvery (and slightly hysterical) giggling spills from her mouth. “Six!” she squeals in protest, still shivering with laughter. Her voice is a bright, rosy pink with affectionate giddiness.