“No, you are not coming into the house with that vile, slobber-drenched rawhide bone. I know, it’s delectable, but no dice.”
Lewis can’t respond because he refuses to drop the rawhide bone—he just looks hurt that his dear friend, the Slobber-Drenched Rawhide Bone, is not going to be allowed in the house. He implores me with the saddest eyes he can manage.
“No, and that’s final. I’m walking away now, and if you want to come in—without the bone!—drop it and bark.”
Even more imploring looks.
Two minutes later, the strangled high-pitched yelp that means:
—Let me in, already! Please!