I should have named him Lenny

I always used to laugh at the story of my aunt and uncle, who bought a Great Dane puppy and let it sit in their laps on the sofa. When the pup grew up, awkwardness ensued; a Dane is hardly a lapdog. Now the shoe is on the other foot; when Snape was small, his climbing on my shoulder and twining around my neck was endearing. Now that he's bigger than Lily, I'm having some trouble convincing him that lying across my carotid while I'm sleeping is bad.