“What with all the whining and yipping: you sound like a puppy.”

—It’s freakin’ freezing outside today.

“Yeah, it is a little cold.”

—A little? My fur got frosty.

“It did not.”

—It would have if you’d left me out there any longer . . . so, you’re sick?

“You didn’t notice? Some dogs can detect tumors or heart attacks and I’m laid up in bed all day and you didn’t notice I was sick?”

—You did seem a little on the pale side, but I thought you were just missing She With Whom I Abide.

“Well, I do, but that doesn’t make me feel like I’m going to vomit all day.”

—Oh. Feeling better?

“Yes, no thanks to you.”

—I kept you company.

“You always do that.”

—Which is probably why you aren’t sick that often.

“You prevent disease, what, by frightening germs away with your fierce napping?”

—I can see that you’re still recovering and you’re saying stuff you don’t really believe.

“Right, that must be it.”

—I’ll be right here if you need me.

“Nap away, Lewis, nap away.”

[Time passes.]

“Oh, She With Whom You Abide says to scratch you under the chin.”

—Thank her for me.

“I will.”

—She is coming back soon, right?

“She hasn’t decided. She saw some pictures of cute labradoodle puppies in the paper and wonders if perhaps her old ungrateful dog is now replaceable.”

—Don’t even joke about such things.

“Who said I’m joking?”

—You’re obviously still very ill; drink lots of fluids.