May 12, 2009

[I mention to She With Whom Lewis Abides that “her dog is going nuts.”]

—I am not.

“What’s with the constant ‘I need to go out’ followed by an immediate ‘Let me in, let me in’ crap?”

—You forgot to feed me.

“I did not.”

—You forgot my biscuit.

“Again: I did not: you don’t get biscuits right after you’ve wolfed down

your breakfast.”

—I suppose I’m just a little unsettled by your presence.

“What?”

—I can’t figure out who’s supposed to be here and when. She With Whom I Abide leaves for days, and you put me outside when I’m barely awake, and then you stay home, and then you won’t feed me . . .

“I repeat: you’ve been fed; you eat so fast, though, you probably don’t remember chewing at all, assuming, of course, you actually ever chew.

—I’m just a nervous wreck.

“Let me guess: a biscuit would calm you down?”

—You’re smarter than you look . . .

“Hey, insulting the hand that throws the biscuit is not a wise policy.”

—Sorry.