in every home, there’s that one chair. You know the one—perfectly positioned, just the right amount of cushion, catches the afternoon sun like a spotlight. And in our house, that chair belongs to Abbi.

She claimed it early on. One day it was just a regular chair, and the next… it was hers. We didn’t argue. I mean, you try telling a German Shepherd she can’t sit where she wants. Now, it’s officially Abbi’s chair. She hops up with purpose, circles a few times like she’s aligning with the Earth’s magnetic field, then plops down with a satisfied huff. Head on the armrest. Back legs hanging off. Total royalty.

Guests will ask, “Can I sit here?” And we just kind of glance at Abbi, who’s already giving them the look. Spoiler: they sit somewhere else.

It’s not just a chair anymore—it’s a throne. And Abbi? She rules it with a soft paw and a whole lot of attitude.