Me: Little Dog, what are you doing?

Little Dog: Chewing on the wood floor.  Maybe.  I might be doing that.

Me: But why?

Little Dog: Seems like a fun thing to do.  I dunno.

Me: Stop it.

Little Dog: Or I could be chewing on a peach pit.  You know, those moldy ones I find on the tree in the backyard that give me the runs.  Hard to say.

Me: Gross.

Little Dog: So good.

Me: Look, Little Dog.  You literally own dozens of bones.  They are all over the living room.  I stepped on one getting out of the shower, which I don’t even know what that’s about because you’re scared of the bathroom.  Chew on a dog bone.

Little Dog:  Yeah, but they don’t give me the runs, so…

Me: Wait, what are you doing?

Little Dog: Chewing on the dog bed.  Maybe.  I might be doing that.

Me: You mean, that thing the other dog stashes dog bones in.

Little Dog: Or it could be a sock.

Me: Dude.

Little Dog: I’m dog bone adjacent.

Me: You’re the reason we can’t have nice things.

Little Dog: You know that dent in your laptop?  The child knocked it off the desk when he was running away from me.

Me: What?

Little Dog: It’s a joint effort is all I’m saying.