“So, you tried to trick me this morning and make me feed you again?”

Lewis does not respond.

“Good thing I read the note from She With Whom You Abide warning me against such shenanigans.”

Lewis mumbles something that I can’t understand.

“What? What was that?”

—Nothing. Just a canine curse damning that wretched writing you humans use to deprive dogs of all they deserve.

“Like two breakfasts?”

—Among other things.

“That wretched writing is helping save all our conversations for that book you’re so eager to finish.”

—True, but when it prevents me from eating, I find it difficult to admire or appreciate.