My dog, the lovely Miss Tina Turner, is an opportunist when it comes to a warm spot.
I leaned forward for a split second and she leapt behind me, thinking she would sit between me and the sofa. I sat back before she could get settled, though.
This happens a lot, but usually I don’t move that fast, and she gets nestled in there, and I end up leaning forward, knitting or whatever I’m doing, to accommodate her. If the aliens came, there’s no telling what they’d think.
Tonight, though, I sat back real fast and caught her in mid-leap. Neither of us is giving in and she’s trapped there, like a cat hanging over a branch.
We’ll be like this until bedtime, because I’m just that kind of stubborn.