—I didn’t appreciate you joking this morning with She With Whom I Abide about me getting laid off. I’m ailing somewhat, as you know, but I’ve served this household faithfully for many years, which is even more in dog years.

“That was a good joke.”

—Yes, I can keep my sense of humor, even in the face of insults.

“Hey, I was just kidding, no one’s going to get rid of you. You’re way too important. And besides, you don’t cost that much, unless you factor in all the time required to pick up your poop.”

—Again with the insults. As if it’s my fault I’m trapped behind a fence!

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Geez, a little sensitive today aren’t we?”

—You would be, too, if you were told that you wouldn’t be allowed to sleep with the rest of the pack ever again.

“Look there’s just not enough room in the bed for everybody, and since you have such a nice alternative bed . . .”

—If it’s so nice, why don’t you sleep on it once in a while?

“It’s too small for me, it’s just the right size for you.”

—I suppose. Still, it’s kind of humiliating getting used to being invited to the pack bed and then later, for no reason, to be ignominiously exiled.

“I understand, but that doesn’t mean you’re any less important.”

—Truly?

“Absolutely: you’re an indispensable member of the pack, of the household . . . unless dog food prices really start to escalate, of course . . . then we might have to reconsider . . .”

—Hey! Hey! Enough already.

“Sorry. It won’t happen again.”

—It better not.