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March 23, 2005
"I cannot get undressed in front of my dog,"Carla says. She pauses, takes a dainty sip from the bottle of Evian perched on her lap, and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "The way he sits at the foot my bed when I get ready for work ... it's unnerving. I lay my clothes out like a flattened version of myself. He looks up at the real me, then at the clothes, and back at me, as if to say, ‘C'mon, bitch, strip already. Let me see what you've got.' Frankly, I find his approach quite rude.-