At some point during the morning, Frieda comes over and looks at me, or she stands at the door of my studio. She wants out. And It’s really convenient because my studio opens onto the dog run. She sniffs around seeing what’s changed since she’s last been in the yard, mark her territory if it needs to be marked, chases a truck or two, then plays with her favorite toy, a round squeaky thing with feet that doesn’t squeak anymore. Eventually she’ll wine or scratch at my door to come back in and find her place in the sun.