Because it's been a while since I wrote anything. 94 words.
Groaning, Harkness stood up from the pile of paperwork on his desk and collapsed on his couch, where his dog, predictably and promptly, leaped on him.
“You’re lucky, Billy,” he told the dog fondly. “No bills, free food, nothing to do but play. You haven’t a care in the world.” He patted and stroked his wriggly pet and felt his headache began to slip away.
And Billy, fighting back the encroaching madness borne of his lifelong imprisonment to a whimsical overlord, wagged his tail in terror and dutifully, doggedly, romped and romped and romped.