I made my dog scream this morning. Slim is a retired racing greyhound, and fanatically devoted to my wife. If he's awake, he has to be in the same room with her, or at least have her in his line of sight. So when she leaves for work, it's especially traumatic for him.

He has a habit, when she leaves, of grabbing something off a table or counter and bringing it into "his" room. It doesn't seem to matter what it is -- Tupperware containers, tubes of toothpaste, stuffed animals, books -- just some random, noticeable item that he deliberately relocates. (He hardly ever tries to eat the object; he learned a gastronomically uncomfortable lesson by eating a bag of unpopped microwave popcorn -- kernels, bag, plastic wrap and all -- which he snagged off the kitchen counter.)

This morning, as soon as my wife's car pulled out of the driveway, and I was still in the snooze-button cycle, I heard him trot into the computer room and rustle around in the wastebasket.

Slim! I shouted from the bedroom. He obviously had thought he was alone in the house; startled, he screamed (not an ordinary dog yelp, but a genuine scream), dropped the trash and ran.

So I got up to make sure he wasn't too freaked out. Apparently, he wasn't; he was curled up on a single couch cushion -- which is an incredible trick, given the fact that he can put his paws on my shoulders and look me straight in the eye. Or lick me straight in the eye, which is what he'd prefer to do anyway.