Saturday evening the pastor and I were both at work in the parish offices, he at his desk and me at mine.
By no means should you think that we spend every Saturday night late at the desk. Our cable (our something like it that I don't really understand) was on the fritz over the weekend so he came to the office because he couldn't watch the NCAA games in his room (but in the office he could); I was in my office because I couldn't watch my beloved British comedy (I don't have a television in my office).
It is not too unusual for the both of us to be working in the evening, as you can imagine (Saturday nights excepted). Very often when we are, the pastor's German Shepherd, Molly, will come into my office and lay at my feet underneath my desk. She certainly gets in the way when she does this, but it is nice.
Saturday evening she came into my office, carrying in her mouth her two trademark tennis balls. She tries to carry three at a time but it just won't work her.
As she came into my office I moved my chair back so she could lay under my desk. She surprised me, though: she walked in front of me, put her chin on the lower desk to my right, sat a tennis ball down there, stepped back a bit and sat down herself, staring all the while at the tennis ball, cleverly placed next to my hand.
It was only a few minutes earlier that Molly and I finished playing a game of fetch for a good thirty minutes. Be that as it may, you can only ignore a dog - looking so cute - staring at a toy across your lap for so many seconds before you simply have to give in.
I accomplished very little on Saturday night, but Molly and I had a lot of fun!