Chapter 121: Rocker Chick

WHEN KNOX AND I returned from our run, the wonderful smell of waffles hit us as we opened the front door. Knox's feet made clipping noises as he hunted down Dad. I hung up the leash and stretched before following him into the kitchen.

"Hey!" I said, catching Dad pinching off the corner of a waffle for Knox. "I thought we had to feed him dog food."

Dad popped the waffle piece into his mouth like that was his plan all along.

"That's right," he said. "Sorry, buddy," he told Knox who huffed at his heel. "I've got yours right here." He pulled out a bag and poured the dried dog food into the bowl on the floor. Knox hesitated before padding over to eat his breakfast. "That's a good boy," said Dad.

I snatched up a fresh waffle and smothered it in butter and syrup. Dad grabbed a whip cream can out of the fridge and waved it in my direction. I took it gleefully and sprayed an artistic pile of white fluff on top of my not so healthy breakfast. "So how was the run?" asked Dad.

"Fun," I said