Chair stealer!

I arrived home yesterday from visiting my father, who had been in the hospital after having some heart stents put in, and stopping by the grocery store. When I walked in the door, there was the lovely Miss Dahlia, just so happy to greet me.

Ok maybe she wasn't so happy to see me so much as she was happy to smell the big roast beef I had in one of the bags. No doubt she would have been all too happy to dig into it and then look up at me with big, innocent looking amber eyes to ask "And so what are you going to have for dinner?"

Anyway...

After fawning all over my dog for a few minutes, I proceed to head to the kitchen to put the groceries away. Usually Dahlia is at my heals, hoping for a handout...if not from the food I just brought home, then from the goody bags in the hall closet.

But not this time...

The groceries get put away without 50 pounds of black, fluffy dog underfoot. Thank God for small favours.

Then I return to the living room, ready to kick back in my recliner, throw on my electric blanket (yes it's spring; no it's not warm here in Central New York, why do you ask?), and continue reading the very interesting book I've been reading (The Raindaldi Quartet by Paul Adam, for those who are interested in murder mysteries, violin making, or both).

And what do I spy when I get into the living room? This:




"I'm sorry Mom, but what did you say about kicking back in my recliner?"

The obvious solution at this point is to remove said dog from the recliner. It's my recliner after all, isn't it? But solutions are never really quite that simple.

I ended up on the couch.

At least she didn't steal my electric blanket.