Me: Beaumont, you know I can see you there.
Beaumont: If you hadn’t put in a glass stairwell you wouldn’t.
Me: Quit stalling. I have to brush you.
Me: Because you’ll get matted if I don’t.
Beau: Then take me to my hairdressers. Cindy is much more gentle than you.
Me: You were just there three weeks ago.
Me: Do you know how much it costs to get you groomed?
Beau: Do I look like I care?
Me: Good point. No.
Beau: Now that we have that straight, take me to Cindy.
Me: Why don’t I just take you downstairs and brush you?
Beau: You can’t see me. Remember. I’m hiding.
Me: Remember. It’s a glass stairwell.
Beau: Close your eyes. Pretend you can’t.
Me: I’d rather you just come downstairs.
Beau: Not happening.
Me: You’re not the boss of me.
Beau: Well that’s mature.
Me: (Sigh) Beau. Please.
Beau: Sorry. Can’t hear you. My eyes are closed.
Me: Now who’s being immature.
Beau: La. La. La. La. La.
Me: Beau. Sooner or later I’m going to brush you.
Beau: (Yawning) Think I’ll take a nap. (He lies down. Opens one eye and stares at me.) And I expect you to phone Cindy and book me that appointment before I wake up.
Me: (Putting his brush back in the basket) Fine.
(Dang. I really thought I might win that one!)