A good book, and a good boy

I admit that I'm incredibly focused on Oliver's wants and needs lately. And that I've gotten super overprotective of him. And also that I'm afraid to comment about him on Facebook because I don't want anyone to think that it means that I'm over losing Daisy. And that he's turned this into his own "I am Oliver, give me what I want" monster, because he's a brilliant dog who knows how to turn situations to his advantage.
To that end, he is laying at the foot of my bed right now covered in an afghan because I opened the window a bit for sleepytime and I don't want him to be cold. Also, I spent 15 minutes changing the blanket around him this morning because he was laying down on the pillows and I didn't want to disturb him. Also, I almost did an involuntary and potentially painful split over the ottoman downstairs because I needed to get up, but I didn't want him to have to move. And he's getting treats whenever he wants. As well as a wet-food breakfast.
Oliver enjoys days most when I have a book to read, because he gets hours and hours of laptime as I'm curled up on the sofa or in a chair, and he's on top of me. Today was one of those days. And I'm glad to do it even more lately, because he's awesome, and because we're lonely without our girl.