While her husband lounges on the couch, digesting his hearty breakfast, Zoey, the more active of the couple, comes barreling down the stairs and into the living room. My teenaged sister, Jackie, follows shortly behind, who has just been pounced on top of and dragged out of bed from a deep sleep. Zoey’s face lights up the second she hears Jackie’s heavy feet slugging down the stairs. She flashes Zoey the stank eye and plops down next to me on the couch. Good morning sunshine. Little does Jackie know, she is far from off the hook. She is still very much on Zoey’s radar. Zoey does a few laps around the living room and once more around the kitchen, drawing attention from all members of the family. She jaunts back on over to the couch and nestles her head into my lap. After receiving a sufficient amount of scratching behind the ears, she looks up at me inquisitively. Her eyes ask me why I am being lazy and not playing with her. They ask me how I could possibly be sitting on the couch when I could be taking her for a walk on the beach. She shifts her eyes to Jackie, and they ask her the same questions. We try to stand strong and go back to enjoying our lazy Sunday activities, but to no avail. Zoey persists on, barking so loudly and suddenly that my arm hairs stand on end and my eyebrows shoot upwards. She swiftly jumps from my lap to my sister’s shoulder, and hurdles her body over the the back of the couch like a show-horse. She races around once more the house before returning to us. She plays her final card. She calmly sits at our feet; raises a paw onto my thigh; looks up at us with her large, glistening eyes; and lets her leash dangle from her mouth. We are sold. There is absolutely no way to resist at this point, and before we know it, we are off our butts, being dragged down the sidewalk by our racing steed on our way to the beach.