Phill stopped writing on the computer and sat on the couch where White Dragon slept. He rested his head on her flank.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Snuggling with my dog before you take her away."
"I'll be gone, too, you know. Shouldn't you be snuggling with me?"
"Well . . . "
"Don't answer that. I don't want to know that you'll miss the dog more than me."