Little Help?

When I come back from the store, pistachio ice cream in hand, the dog isn't where I left her in front of the TV in the living room.

Where could she have gone, though? It's not like she can get far, with her eyes wandering back and forth in her head, throwing her off balance and making her sick.

I hurry back to the bedroom only to find her, laid out flat in the hall, her ears back apologetically, as if to say, "I'm so sorry about this, but my legs don't seem to work properly at the moment."