*sits on the floor infront of the fire, a red leather journal in her lap. She goes to write, though as soon as quill is to paper, the small puppy Barley tries to tug on the end of it with its sharp little teeth, leaving the feather all stragly. Reaching for a small cloth toy, she throws it to the other room and watches the pup scamper after it. Shortly after he returns and she gives him a playful warning stare and a waggle of the finger, which seems to make him settle. Dipping the slobbery quill in the ink, she tries again....
*giggles as the pup wanders over and crawls into her lap, yawns and then quickly falls asleep*
*looking down at the tiny little ball of fluff sleeping, she whispers "your good, ain't ya Barley!" as she strokes him gently...*
*smiles gently as she lays the book down for the ink to dry, then jumps suddenly, the pup leaping from her lap, as someone bangs on the front door. Frozen to the spot, she waits a goodly while before peeping out of the window, sighing with relief at seeing a delivery there.*
