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