“Get off,” my wife says — but the pug
Just looks at her and doesn’t move.
He’s lying in his favorite spot
Beside his master on the couch.
“Off,” she says — the dog just stares;
He could win a test of wills
But when she moves to pick him up
He concedes defeat and jumps.
“I want to sit there,” she explains.
He looks at her, he looks at me
Then jumps up from the other side,
Lying down across my lap
Sideways, facing down his foe
As if to say “Your move.”