His vertical jump is a hiccup; His landing, a tumble. Sadly, I’m not reaching much higher. But now with the dog and I both pawing at her, Riley’s got nowhere to go.

The Corgi yelps at our target, Bark, bark! This loaf of a dog has the heart of a ferocious animal with a killer instinct. He’s desperate for answers, and so am I.

“Now tell me what’s on that business-card…or…he’ll bite you!”

Riley moves her free hand toward something in jeans, deflecting our interrogation with another of her attempts at laughter. “Ahaha…ha—ehh, umm…oh this? I just need to make a quick call…to my dermatologist.”