Last night I was sitting on the couch, reading a book. A certain catahoula walks up to me and lays his head in my lap. I absently give a few good ear scratches, then go back to reading my book. I hear this big *sigh*. I look down to see Voodoo staring at me with those big brown puppy eyes. I know exactly what he wants. I'm not a lapdog person. I'm not even a fan of tiny dogs in my lap, much less my brindle demon.
I said, "Voodoo, you can't get in my lap. You're too big."
I go back to reading my book. Then I feel the sneak coming on. Most of you know what the sneak is: it's when the dog gradually starts easing his body onto your lap. I look back down. Big puppy eyes look back up at me. Voodoo's managed to scootch his big head, neck and front part of his chest onto my lap. I don't like dogs in my lap.
"Voodoo, you are NOT getting in my lap."
Voodoo doesn't move. Cue the sad puppy whimper. Not just any puppy whimper...the quiet, pathetic one with the heartbreaking little quiver at the end. Big, melting brown eyes. I don't like dogs in my lap.
"It's not going to work, Voodoo. You're too big."
I'm reading my book. My elbows are propped up on the mass of snoozing dog that is crammed into my lap. Voodoo's head and chest is hanging off one end of my lap, his hind end hanging off the other. Random bulges of catahoula are sticking out in between. My legs are falling asleep from the weight. This can't possibly be comfortable for either of us.
And we're both happy.
I said, "Voodoo, you can't get in my lap. You're too big."
I go back to reading my book. Then I feel the sneak coming on. Most of you know what the sneak is: it's when the dog gradually starts easing his body onto your lap. I look back down. Big puppy eyes look back up at me. Voodoo's managed to scootch his big head, neck and front part of his chest onto my lap. I don't like dogs in my lap.
"Voodoo, you are NOT getting in my lap."
Voodoo doesn't move. Cue the sad puppy whimper. Not just any puppy whimper...the quiet, pathetic one with the heartbreaking little quiver at the end. Big, melting brown eyes. I don't like dogs in my lap.
"It's not going to work, Voodoo. You're too big."
I'm reading my book. My elbows are propped up on the mass of snoozing dog that is crammed into my lap. Voodoo's head and chest is hanging off one end of my lap, his hind end hanging off the other. Random bulges of catahoula are sticking out in between. My legs are falling asleep from the weight. This can't possibly be comfortable for either of us.
And we're both happy.
. Every night, I'd go sit on the floor and all three dogs of mine will try to occupy a little bit of my lap. It's hilarious to see one tries to push the other out, then the other will climb right back up, then the friendly push happens all over again for everyone tries to claim the middle spot right between my leg, with his/her head resting on my chest.. I'm bashing in their attentions, and they in mine, and we all absolutely love it 
