“So, if it isn’t Mr. Presumptuous Dog.”

—What do you mean?

“I mean, I wake up this morning and you’ve decided it was okay to jump on the bed and take a snooze.”

—It was only for your protection.

“Uh huh, and how do you figure that?”

—Well, there was room on the bed because you two were huddled together, presumably to keep warm; I was just adding my body heat to the equation to prevent you from freezing to death.

“How generous of you.”

—Plus, just in cast a home invasion happened, I’m certain that no criminal would dare harm you upon finding a “fierce but loyal” (Barkmark Pending) dog on the bed ready to do battle.

“Wait . . . Barkmark Pending? What’s that?”

—The canine version of trademark, of course.

“Oh, of course. How does that work?”

—Admittedly, it is a cumbersome process, since it has to travel bark by bark, but basically it works like your copyright: you don’t have to register a copyright for it to be binding, you just have to announce it, right? By indicating somewhere that this or that is copyrighted?

“True.”

—Same with Barkmarks. You bark your claim to at least three witnesses and then they’re supposed to pass it along, but even if they don’t, you’re still covered.

“And there’s a Dog Court somewhere that enforces this . . . barklarkey?”

—Theoretically.

“Theoretically?”

—Before we canines decided to abide with you humans, things were a little more organized.

“In various packs?”

—Yes, exactly. Living the way we do now has sort of broken down the traditional way of doing things, but we like to maintain a semblance of the old ways when we can.

“Got it. Well, fierce but loyal dog, I’ve got to do some de-icing, particularly now that the snow is falling.”

—You won’t be long?

“Quit worrying: I’m not putting you outside.”

—That’s a relief.

“I’m sure. Guard that furnace well, now, okay?”

[Editor’s Note: The extreme cold weather continues.]

—Yes, it’s cold, but it’s not that big a deal, really.

“Says the dog who gets to stay inside all day.”

—It’s not required. I could survive outdoors, but it is appreciated.

“I was kidding you. No way we’d force you to meet zero degree temperatures with that raggedy fur coat of yours.”

—Raggedy? I have a fine glossy coat, I’ll have you know.

“I was just referring to all the pieces of your fine glossy coat that you leave all over the house.”

—Oh, well glossiness needs to be constantly renewed, you know, refurbished, if you will.

“Understood, but couldn’t you leave all the old pieces outdoors and not on the kitchen floor.”

—I have very little control over such things.

“Obviously. Well, time for me to go. And time for you to start patrolling.”

—What? But . . . what?

“Just kidding.”

—Oh. Of course. So was I.

“Obviously.”

“You won’t have to go outside much today. Because of the cold.”

—Thank you thank you thank you.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you get to spend the whole day with your head in my lap.”

—It doesn’t?

“No.”

—There’s a certain inequity in all this that I find disturbing.

“Well, get used to it.”

“Looking a little concerned there, aren’t we Muffin Licker?”

—No, and I’m not a Muffin Licker.

“Only because we haven’t had any muffins around here recently.”

—I never am.

“Okay, use a little denial if that will make you feel better. Anyway, as soon as I finish this note, I’m outta here and you’re outta the house.”

—Not again.

“Sorry, but we want to make sure all of your intestinal activity takes place outdoors . . . and don’t pretend there isn’t a lot of activity. If you want to deny muffin-licking, fine, but own up to the three-a-days.”

—I’m just going to lie here and attempt to store up some heat. When are you coming back?

“It’ll be very late: the sun will long be gone.”

—Oh no.

“But’s supposed to snow, so it’s possible we’ll be unable to get back at all.”

—Oh no.

“We’ll do our best, though.”

—An extra biscuit for heat-generating calories? Please?

[Editor’s Note: In which we discuss “Poop Patrol,” i.e., the periodic need to gather Lewis’ excremental offerings.]

“How often to you make a deposit, so to speak? I went out a couple of weeks ago, just a few days after She With Whom You Abide went out and there must have been 3 dozen piles: are a three-or-four-times-a-day dog?”

—You know the old saying: Clean bowels, happy dog.

“I know no such saying: it must be a part of dog lore.”

—Regardless, it is true.

“But I swear more is coming out than goes in. It’s like alchemy or something.”

—Alchemy?

“Forget it, it would take too long to explain. But face it, you’re basically a crap machine.”

—And you’re a crap gatherer.

“Touché.”

—Oh no, not another day when I’m put out early.

“Sorry, dog, but you’ve got to get used to darkness.”

—No I don’t, everyone knows the enemy is sleeping right now.

“So there’s never anything to worry about at night?”

—On the inside, maybe, that’s why I should be inside.

“Internal enemies, eh?”

—Yes, nefarious and sneaky ones, too, requiring extremely sensitive senses to thwart their evil . . . You’re not buying this are you?

“No.”

—Okay, where’s my biscuit? Time to freeze my tail off.

[Editor’s Note: After returning from Seattle I mention how nice it is to be back in a familiar bed.]

—And it must also be nice to have a fierce but loyal dog in place at the side of the bed, ready to fight off any surprise incursions by psychopathic criminal home invaders.

“Oh yes, that is a particular comfort to me, knowing that your raging canines are just waiting to save me from harm.”

—You’re welcome.

“I didn’t actually thank you, yet.”

—I know, but I also know that you wanted to, but were still feeling a bit guilty for abandoning me for so long, so I went ahead and saved you the trouble of actually thanking me. Plus, you don’t have to thank me for making a thank you unnecessary. All in a day’s work for a fierce but loyal dog like me.

“Oooookay, I guess that’s settled.”

—And with a fierce but loyal dog in the house, everything is settled, all the time, no disruptions allowed, just fierce but loyal protection 24/7/364.

“What happens during the 365^th day?”

—Oh, that’s my vacation, but don’t worry, fierce but loyal dogs don’t need a lot of vacation: our work is everything, we find contentment in the constant fierce but loyal service we provide around the clock.

“I take it fierce but loyal is your new motto or slogan or something.”

—Oh, you noticed? What do you think? I thought it was a solid foundation upon which to build a good campaign.

“Campaign?”

—Sure. Marketing, everything’s marketing these days, and I can’t be left behind.

“But what would you be marketing for: you already have a job.”

—Even when you’ve got a job, it’s necessary to reinforce your brand, keep it before the eyes of the public, don’t let it get forgotten.

“Wouldn’t want folks to forget all that fierce loyalty, I guess.”

—You guess right: “Lewis, fierce but loyal.” I still think there needs to be a second phrase, though, a tag line of some sort.

“How about: . . . fierce but loyal and eager for a biscuit?”

—I’m not sure why I ever was hoping you’d return from Seattle.

“Fierce but loyal with a black belt in napping?”

“So, not much time to write our conversation today since I’m leaving.”

—What?

“Yeah, I’m going to Seattle.”

—What?

“Just for a couple of days.”

—What?

“And I won’t be able to feed you.”

—What?

“Plus, you’ll be spending a very long day today outside.”

—What?

“Probably beginning just 10 or 15 minutes from now.”

—What?

“You’ll certainly earn your guard dog keep today.”

—What?

“Okay, well, see you in a couple, have a great weekend.”

—What?

“Bye.”

—What?

“Thanks for nothing, dog. Why didn’t you remind me to write She With Whom You Abide yesterday?”

—What, I have to do everything?

“I’d be happy if you simply did something.”

—Oh no, not this discussion again: I refuse to be lectured about my work habits by the likes of you.

“And what does that mean?”

—I’m sure your superior human brain can figure it out.

“No time for that. I’ve got to return to my apartment to retrieve my computer so that I can fill out some holiday employment applications.”

—You’re leaving now?

“Oh, I’ll be back.”

—When?

“Soon enough.”

—So, I don’t have to go outside?

“I wouldn’t want to keep you from your appointed rounds.”

—Oh, I’m sure any threats have been minimized by the cold: have you been out there? It’s really icy.

“I’m sure you can handle it, c’mon, let’s go! Outside, now!”

[Editor’s Note: At this point, I hoped to include a photo of the look of shocked incredulity Lewis would get when asked to go outside when he didn’t want to. Unfortunately, attempts to take such photos were either foiled by Lewis being unable to hold a pose, or by a flash that obscured his eyeballs. Believe me, though, the look cracked me up every time: rarely has any creature looked so hurt and confounded. Simply priceless, that look, priceless.]

—Hey, when are you going to finish my bark?

“You mean our book?”

—Whatever: it’s just that you have to make that a priority, don’t you know?

“Okay, okay, there is some stuff I could do on that today, too.”

—Good. The longer you wait, the longer you’ll miss out on the profits from what will obviously be a best-seller.

“True.”

—So, get cracking already. Time’s a’wastin’!

“You are a harsh taskmaster.”

—That’s right and I’ll be keeping an eye on you.

“While you’re napping?”

—I’m an excellent multi-tasker.