I came out of the shower the other day to find that Miss B, unhappy with the texture of the coverlet, had decided to arrange my bed to suit herself. Of particular interest is the …well, what do YOU want? look she’s giving me.
She’s becoming a cranky old lady, this beautiful doggo of mine. I just had to laugh, because I stood near the loo door and was all, “What do you think you’re doing?”
Challenged thus, Milady simply closed her eyes and blew out a heavy, exhausted I’m gonna ignore you now sigh, and she proceeded to make good upon her threat.
I don’t begrudge her a single instant, of course. We have so little time left; she can spend it burrowing into the covers every day if she pleases.
Just don’t tell her that, please. She’ll rapidly become insufferable.