My dog, Mavis, has become my alarm clock. There is something about 6:30 pm that makes her start singing to me. Low guttural mini-howls. It is at this point that I usually realize I am holding my breath, shoulders up to my ears, staring into the abyss of my computer screen. If I don’t pay attention to her she will attempt to crawl in my lap, all 65 pounds of her. Then, and only then, do I return to my body. I realize that I need to get up, get out of my chair, move my body, get a snack, hydrate and breathe.