By Paula Lau I trekked through my dining room trailing unfolded laundry, with a piece of homework that needed editing, while trying to balance a few dirty dishes in my arms and there I spied our dog, Sabrina. She was laid out on the floor in her characteristically supine position — sleeping. Blissfully unaware of her owner’s crazed condition. And, not for the first time, I thought (in the infamous words of Teresa Heinz) “I wish I were a dog.”