—What’s she talking about? She With Whom I Abide is not slothful. No way.

“Yes, but let’s consider the source of this endorsement: you sleep 20 hours a day.

—You’re mistaking my deep thinking time with my sleep time.

“Deep thinking?”

—Oh yes: it’s a combination of meditation and intense analytical philosophizing that would shame human versions of the same.

“Uh huh. And what exactly are your deep thoughts?”

—I’m afraid they are too deep for you to comprehend.

“Try me.”

—Sorry, I know how fragile human egos can be.

“So you’re not answering me to protect me from getting my feelings hurt?”

—Yes.

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

—No need: protection, as you know, is part of my job as a faithful canine companion.

“Again, my gratitude knows no bounds.”

—Do I detect sarcasm?

“Sarcasm? How is that possible? I’m just a stupid human who can’t possibly understand the deep thoughts of dogs.”

Lewis looks at me, begins to reply, then thinks better of it, and flops down on the floor for some more deep thinking.

I decide to pursue the issue of his next bath some other time.