Miss Maia has gotten to playing fast and loose with the "on the bed" rules lately.

She's allowed on the bed when Ethel's in bed, with the quilt pulled down, and if Ethel invites her.

But of late she's taken to trying to predict just, exactly, when we're going to go to bed, and hopping up on top of the quilt and looking cute and innocent.

Maia's not really innocent, though; I'm watching her try to manipulate all sorts of situations around the house. For instance - she has somehow intimidated Kia to the point that Kia won't eat her supper unless Maia is in the room; obviously with the intention of forcing Kia away from her dish, because (as you can tell) Maia is terribly underfed.

Maia is nine years old.

She's big for a Malamute, and that's old for a Malamutt; that's also old for a dog that big.

I've tried to get folks up North to take Maia for me; sister-in-law Jean, for instance, fell for her like a ton of bricks. But she wouldn't take Maia with her; and it's April in Arizona, and Maia's not stupid; she knows what's coming as well as you or I do. Yesterday it was 88 degrees; in a couple of months, it'll be 30 degrees warmer than that.

That's a terrible situation for a Malamutt.

Imagine being outside in 120 F weather, wearing flannel underwear, a wool jumpsuit, an itchy balaclava and a Helly Hanson parka. And you NEVER GET TO TAKE THEM OFF, EVER. And you can't shower - in fact, water can never reach your skin.

Oh - and your sweat glands stop working. The only way that you can cool off is by breathing hard, letting the moisture in your breath take the heat away.

That's what Maia lives through, every year that we're in Arizona.

And it's my fault. Because I did the stupidest thing that I ever did, which was leave Park City for Phoenix.

So, yeah, I suppose she can stay on the bed.