Of course I swore no dog on the furniture, but it's day two of waiting around to see if our front steps are going to be rebuilt, and Rubi has apparently taken a shine to sitting on my lap while I read. If I'm quick enough I can pile some mss on her back and take notes.
Earlier I was escorting her around the yard with an umbrella, and realized how silly it looks for a grown woman to be providing umbrella service for a seven pound dog attacking a mini soccer ball. What is it about dogs that brings this out in us? The great desire to keep them from pooping by the fireplace?