Snarf, urf, urf. Snarf, urf, urf! She lies behind me with her head scrunched up against the lamp, her legs and eyes randomly twitching. Her lip pulls back and her nose wiggles. Snarf! Is it a dream about chasing a rabbit? Urf, urf! Is it a fantasy of a lost puppyhood? Why does looking down on the unconscious velveteen Basset make me smile? Maybe it's the trust she has that I won't roll my chair over her as I sit here computing. Maybe it's her silly wrinkles and saggy belly from her years as a breeder in a puppy mill. Maybe it's just that in her silence, she seems wise and understanding. What could be more comforting?