Tolstoy crawled stealthily along the floor at the side of the bed, ears perked up, listening to the bear snore. His left hand was dangling off the side of the bed, practically begging to be licked. Standing up, Tolstoy licked Bobby's hand once, and then waited for a response. The hand fumbled around, looking for Tolstoy's head and once it'd been found, patted the dog a couple times. He chuffed, shaking his head and started a more intense licking campaign.

Bobby grumbled, opening one eye. "Hi, dog. Go away."

From the doorway, Andy rolled her eyes as she pressed her hand into her hip.

"Lick his face, Tolstoy," she said. Tolstoy looked over at her, then back at Bobby and canted his head to one side, figuring out the best way to go about his new task. He leaned back, sized up the distance from bed to floor, and jumped up. Standing over Bobby, Tolstoy licked his face a few times before sneezing.

Instinctively, Bobby covered his face with his arm. "Oh that's gross, Tolstoy," he whined, batting at the big dog with his free hand. Peering around the dog, he glared at Andy still standing in the doorway. "You taught him to do that, didn't you?"

She grinned. "I haven't taught him anything, handsome."

"Yeah, right."

"He wants you to get you butt up and take him out."

"You do it. I need a bath," he said, glaring at Tolstoy still standing over him.

"Excuse me? This is your fault," she said, putting a hand on her belly. "The least you can do is walk the dog."

He smiled. "Yes, boss."

"Damn straight."

He stared up at Tolstoy who in turn stared right back. "I can't do anything until this lumbering beast gets off of me."

Tolstoy barked in response.

"You offended him," Andy said matter-of-factly.

"Oh for crying out loud," Bobby mumbled as he pushed at the dog. "I think he's just trying to keep me from you."

"He's about eight months too late, then."

Bobby slipped out from under Tolstoy and walked over to Andy. She smiled up at him.

"It works out in my favor," he said, smiling back.

"So it does."

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"You know, you don't fit as neatly against me anymore." He paused, smirking. "You're too big."

She pulled back and whacked his chest with the back of her hand, trying to hide a smile. "Jerk."

He just grinned at her.

"It's your fault!" she added. "Go walk the dog!"

Tolstoy barked in agreement.