[Editor’s Note: An inability to sleep gets this letter started at 3:30 in the morning.]
“You know, you don’t help matters by being so loud when you get up, eager to be fed several hours too early.”
—A famous dog saying: It’s never too early.
“What, too early to eat?”
—Not just that, too early to do anything, really: anything worth doing should be done now.
“How very Zen of you.”
—Zen? Phooey, everyone knows Zen ripped off dog philosophy, shamelessly and without attribution.
—No kidding: dogs are the original Zen masters, but because we’re masters, we don’t expend a lot of energy seeking credit for our wisdom.
“Or expend a lot of energy, period.”
—I could be insulted but I will not let your pettiness interfere with my oneness with the universe.
“Interesting, given your hysterical performance yesterday afternoon, yapping and yipping like a little dog at the cat next door.”
—That wasn’t about the cat.
—No, it was . . . well, something like a dog political convention.
—It’s hard to explain, but you humans had elections recently, right?
—Dogs do something similar, on a smaller scale . . .
“So, you’re telling me all the yappings were political speeches?”
—Something like that.
“And what issues were you yapping about?”
—Well, dog things . . .
—Um, just things . . . resolutions about continued feline presence maybe . . .
“I couldn’t hear you, you began mumbling . . . did I hear the word feline?”
—Say, isn’t it close enough to 5:00?
“Quit changing the subject: I’m not feeding you for a long while.”
—But I’ve got a lot of campaigning to do today.
—How does it feel to be an avowed enemy of a dog’s right to live free without fear of hunger?
“Is that one of your campaign planks?”
“If I were an avowed enemy, believe me, you’d know it; I suggest you do a little of your dog meditation, or whatever you call it.”
—Fine, but I’m doing so officially under protest.