The pugs are licking each other again. Beneath Donna's chair, the little one, Precious, licks the inside of brother Brutus' ear with gusto, the wet, smacking sounds loud but not yet noticed by Donna, who is absorbed in Facebook In another minute, maybe two, she will notice and upbraid them, again, futilely reminding them that they should not lick each other so much.
The pugs will stop and listen when she speaks, appearing to listen and, possibly, understand. Only they don't understand: when she turns back to her computer, they will lick each other again. They are, after all, just dogs.