... is standing on my mouse mat and pawing the key board, which is now covered in fine clay dust.
Blocking my view of the screen, he arches his back, yawns, then licks his lips - all polite terrier conversation. He reaches across and delicately steals an empty Lidl's chocolate wrapper that I've scrunched up and left on my desk.
I nuzzle his soft blonde fur which smells of outdoors and wet grass. His dark eyes, rimmed by thick pale lashes, are on a distant horizon through the window behind my desk.
He thinks I should be paying attention to him and not blogging.
It's nearly his supper time.