"Dog's trying to eat my head!"
I feared for my life. Out of nowhere it seemed, I was being accosted by my typically-loving and lovable black lab Riley. She's four, and is always so very excited and friendly around people. But this was different. I was convinced she was out to get me, and my attempts to flee the devouring dog's reaches weren't successful. I was stuck in some weird sci-fi flick, at least temporarily, and it seemed as though I was that token figure who was running but moving at a snail's pace. Recalling this scene during a morning phone call from my wife later on, it might have seemed somewhat odd to hear these words of explanation: "The dog was trying to eat my head." Diabetics who've experienced noctural low sugars can probably guess where this story is going. Yes, this was indeed the result of a morning low before work. The wife had left early for her job, and the all-important duty of pulling myself out of bed for a shower before work fell solely upon me. It...