Me: Why do you keep doing that?
Little Dog: What?
Me: That thing where you hurl your bone at the hardwood floor.
Little Dog: If I did it on the carpet, it wouldn’t make any noise.
Me: And always when I’m on the phone, or there’s a quiet part of a movie.
Little Dog: Nature abhors a vacuum.
Me: But seriously.
Little Dog: I dunno. Maybe I like the lovely sound it makes as it bounces.
Little Dog: Or maybe I like the fact that everyone looks at me when I do it.
Little Dog: The attention from the room momentarily eliminates my profound feelings of existential loneliness.
Me: That’s pretty deep.
Little Dog: Or I could just be an asshole.
Little Dog: Yep, I think that’s it. Just an asshole.
Me: But why, Little Dog?
Little Dog: You know how they always say play to your strengths?
Me: I don’t think you’re an asshole.
Little Dog: You don’t?
Me: I don’t.
Little Dog: That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me. I love you.
Me: I love you too, Little Dog.
Little Dog: This seems like it might be a good time to tell you I ate your slippers.
Little Dog: But only one of them. Just one slipper. Do you still love me?
Me: I’d love you more if you’d stop eating my slippers.
Little Dog: That would hardly be fair to Big Dog, though, would it?