Meins

This chair is mine.

I wanted a chair here, in this window.

I was the one that chose the chair.

This chair is mine.

It's where I can curl up with a cup of tea/glass of wine (depending on the position of the sun of course) and a book.

To human ears it is a soundless chair. To a dog, not.

The moment my ass hits the cushion and my feet swing up off the floor, book in one hand, cup in the other, often a plate of toast balanced balanced precariously on the arm, a cold, wet and intrusive nose will nudge its way in, demanding love and attention and refusing to accept 'no' as an answer.

At least he doesn't climb up and sit on my lap - not unless there's fireworks or a thunderstorm anyway!