As I get home, I know that she will be reclining on the couch. Her mischievous eyes snap to my face as I enter the room. She has achingly beautiful lines, each part in perfect proportion to every other. A taut, pink stomach draws the eye, and a cheeky hint of nipple peeks out from under her coat, where it is slightly pulled back.

I walk over the living room floor intentionally slowly, prolonging the painful instant of our daily reunion. As I approach her lair, I can almost feel the subtle tension gathering in her petite frame. A sense of explosive energy pervades the space that surrounds her. I reach her, and ever so slowly run my hand up her stomach, across her chest and muscular shoulders, until I reach her face and slowly stroke her soft cheek.

She gives my finger a lascivious lick, covering it in slobber. My prize winning bullterrier jumps up, butts my chest with her egg shaped forehead and commences running around and around the room, in an ebullient state of delight that I will never be able to share.