October 7, 2009

“Say, you know anything about being awakened by loud tail thumps on the wall?”

—No, can’t say that’s ever happened to me.

“Because it happened to me! This morning! Thanks for nothing sleep-disturbing animal!”

—I was lonely.

“Are you sure you weren’t trying to trick me into feeding you again?”

—No, I saw She With Whom I Abide write one of those infernal notes and I presumed she told you the sordid story of my should-be-illegal underfeeding.

“And you were right.”

—No need to rub it in.

“But wait, you were lonely? All you do is sleep, and I was sleeping . . . why couldn’t you sleep while I was sleeping?

—And leave the house unprotected by a watchful eye?

“C’mon, you’re claiming—again—that you’re wide awake every minute you’re left alone?”

—Well, there are different levels of being awake: the canine species has cultivated at least 37 distinct forms of alertness, many of which would appear to be sleeping to the untrained human eye.

“I see, or rather, I guess I don’t, right?”

—Indeed.

“And now you want to go out?”

—Ears scratched first, please.

“And then you’ll want to be let back in almost immediately?”

—It’s about time you finally figured out my routine.