“I definitely did not appreciate you trying to fool me this morning when I got up, hopping around like you hadn’t been fed.”

—How did you know?

“She With Whom You Abide left me a note.”

—Curse your literacy! It has foiled more dog plans and dreams than probably any other diabolical human tool.

“We shouldn’t have to foil anything: you should be honest with us.”

—Maybe.

“Maybe?”

—Say, since you claim She With Whom I Abide fed me, she must have seen how low my food supply is, so will you please please please please please remind her to please please please please please please pick up a bag of food on her way home?

“You seem worried.”

—It’s these half-rations you’ve been forcing on me since the food got scarce.

“You haven’t been put on half-rations.”

—Are you sure? After all, there’s hardly any food left.

“Yes, I’m sure: if anything, you’re being better fed because we’re giving in to your begging for biscuits more often than we used to.”

—I don’t think so.

“Believe it, bub: you’re getting spoiled because we feel sorry for you, what with all your limping and difficulty with the stairs.”

—And ambush trips to the Dog Destroyer?

“Dog Destroyer?”

—You gloss over the evil with the innocuous name “vet,” which is almost as evil as taking me to the Dog Destroyer in the first place.

“The vet doesn’t destroy dogs, he helps them.”

—Right, I’ll believe that when you increase my meal size to what it should be: I heard the Destroyer claim I was eating too much: that’s why you starve me.

“I think it’s time you calmed down and took a nap.”

—Sure, crush dissent, that’s what I expect from my oppressors, but I’ll nap anyway, just not happily.