Sitting on the Throne, happily reading, with my panties down around my ankles.
Husband comes into the bathroom, with an evil grin on his face. Both of our German Shepherds are hot on his heels, and very interested in something he's holding in his hands.
Boss, our large male, is 90+ pounds and still thinks he's a puppy. Ellie is 70 pounds, is less likely to knock you down, but is more likely to do stealth-ninja moves with her tongue, invariably leaving you with a wet nose and wet lips. [She's managed to french-kiss a friend of ours who turned her head while saying something, exactly at the wrong time!]
I say "Hi...", then realize what he's holding, and barely clamp my legs together in time to protect my panties from two dog cookie missiles!
The projectiles bounce off my legs onto the floor. Two bounding bundles of fur attack. Ellie grabs one, and runs. Boss sticks around and eats his where it lays.
My husband retreats, laughing.
I plot my revenge while petting Boss.