Me: Little Dog, you’re going to kill me one night with this under-foot stuff.
Little Dog: I have to be close for this to work.
Me: It’s the part where you keep backing into me that I’m finding hard to navigate.
Little Dog: If I don’t back into you, you won’t know where I am, and if you don’t know where I am, I can’t help you find the bedroom.
Me: I know where the bedroom is.
Little Dog: What does that have to do with anything?
Me: I’m saying whatever’s going on here is a you problem, not a me problem.
Little Dog: Look. I am literally driven to do be near you.
Me: I know, I know.
Little Dog: I’ve been bred over generations to cultivate this compulsion.
Me: I guess so.
Little Dog: By humans. Humans did this to me.
Me: Although if the pound’s to be believed, you’re only a quarter shepherd, so…
Little Dog: Helping you navigate is in my DNA, is all I’m saying. You’re always saying I don’t have instincts.
Me: I don’t say that.
Little Dog: Well I do. I do have instincts. My instincts tell me that I have to help you get to bed.
Me: I’m sorry. This clearly stresses you out.
Little Dog: Thank you. It does.
Me: Although, new problem.
Little Dog: Yes?
Me: I can’t get into bed if I can’t get through the door.
Little Dog: And?
Me: I can’t get through the door with you standing in it.
Little Dog: That’s a you problem, not a me problem.