“Go, Waylon,” Knox whispered, pushing his dog toward the front of the house. “Find Mommy.” Nash looked down at Piper, who was standing on the toes of his boots, looking like she was hoping to get scooped up and saved from the indignity of snow. “You heard your uncle. Go find Mommy.” The two dogs tore through the snow and cut around the front of the house, barking ecstatically.
Them talking to he dogs like their children is everyting to me
