Keith Ross was an early riser. This was not by choice. His faithful fifteen- year old black lab, Rex would wake his owner up by licking his bare feet. Keith hadn’t slept on his king-sized bed since the night his ex-wife left home permanently. He didn’t like the dark. It scared him. Every emotion attached to living alone scared him. He chose to sleep on his old worn out leather sofa with Rex right beside him. Keith didn’t own a pair of pajamas. He preferred to fall asleep wearing his street clothes He usually dressed like the late Jerry Garcia, the legendary lead guitarist of the Grateful Dead. Like the great American musical icon, Keith tended to favor black tee-shirts and black sweat pants or stone washed blue denim jeans, relaxed fit of course.
Keith was actually a big fan of the Grateful Dead and lead guitarist Jerry Garcia in particular. He just wished that he that he didn’t resemble Jerry so closely and dreamed of having the musical talent of the late American icon.
When Rex had licked Keith’s feet long enough out to wake him up, Keith heard a loud knock on his front door. He groggily arose from his couch almost tripping over Rex in the process.