lap dog

Despite her medium-sized, forty-pound status, Puppy seems to think she's a lap dog.

Unfortunately, I'm unwilling to disabuse her of this notion.

When I'm at the computer, blogging (or, more likely, reading blogs), she will jump up into my lap and expect me to show her the love.

If I'm sitting on the couch, she will crawl up there and look me in the eye and obstruct my view of the television until I show her some love.

So even though I should have given her the cold shoulder just now when I found her on the bed with that "Oh, my! Am I on the bed? How did that happen?" look on her face, instead I sat on the floor and began to show her some love. And then she crawled into my lap. Which I really truly do adore.

And then my phone rang--downstairs--and I knew it was Dec. I couldn't convince her to get out of my lap. Instead, she just looked up at me and laid her head back down. I moved one leg out from under her. She didn't budge. I tried to move the other leg, but she had deftly placed her body on my foot. Apparently it was her determination to remain where she was peacefully napping.

Yet I will do nothing about my lap dog. Except show her some love.