When my friend Liezl and her young dog Chomsky visited last week, I had hoped Lila would be on her best behaviour. Especially since Chomsky always obeys with soldier-like precision. While I was making coffee, Liezl reported sternly that Lila had installed herself on the sofa. (Our furniture had formerly been off limits.) I explained that we had recently reached a compromise: If Lila lay on her blanket, she was welcome to stay on the sofa. Eyeing the clutter of squeaky toys, Liezl suggested that Lila would soon be “taking over”, to which I lamely replied, “Oh well. We’re committed now. We’ve bought the blanket.”