She makes the rounds to each of us in turn, her short, glossy black coat shining, her little jaw jutting out in a fetching underbite, tail wagging: first to Katie, then Ellen, then up on the chair to stand on John's chest, and finally up on the couch to wiggle on my lap before doing it all over again. With each round, she grows more insistent, washing our faces in tiny kisses and whining under her breath.
She gets back to me again, and looks searchingly into my eyes, her Chihuahua features soft and pleading, "What could you possibly want?" I whisper as she flops on her back for a belly rub.
One year ago: That Ol' Devil Moon
Two years ago: Shake it Off
Three years ago: Home