In This Here DawgGong House

Beaumont: Whaaat?

Me:  You have to get up. We’re going for a walk.

Beau:  What’s with the ‘we’?  I’m comfie. You go.

Me:  I’m going for your sake.

Beau:  Well aren’t you a lovely martyr.

Me:  Beau. You need to go outside and pee.

Beau:   Why is it you humans don’t talk about your own bodily functions in public but have no trouble talking about an animal’s same functions?

Me:  I have no idea. It’s just what we do.

Beau:   Well. It’s very indelicate.

Me:  So sorry. Still doesn’t change the fact, you have to get up so we can go for a walk.

Beau:  And I ask again. What’s with the ‘we’? I’m comfy and when I’m comfie I like to stay comfie. Why rock a rocking boat?

Me: Excuse me?  What rocking boat. That makes no sense.

Beau:  Says you.

Me:  Well you said it to me. I’d think you’d want me to understand.

Beau:  No. I said it for my readers and I’m sure fine smart folk like Anne and Rob and Marielee and my Uncle Jim will get it.

Me:  Well bully for your readers. I don’t.

Beau:  Oh well then. Let me spell it out for you, you poor pitifully slow human. Being so comfy makes me think of one of those sweet little ole’ bassinets rocking gently back and forth. The bed is like ‘my boat’, you know, my crib. and hey!  You’re the one always talking about ‘the universe’s embrace’ and energy and light and yada yada. The bed might look like it’s still but it’s energy in motion rocking ever so gently in the universe’s embrace. Yada. Yada. Yada.

Me:  Well aren’t I glad I asked.

Beau:  Do I detect a slice of sarcasm served up with that comment?  Remember. You’re the foil to this blog. I’m the star. If anyone gets to be sarcastic, it’s me. Not you.

Me:   (ever so slightly sarcastically)  So sorry. For a moment I forgot and thought I was the mistress of this…. crib.

Beau:  Just goes to show how little you know you poor human you. Now, take yourself for a walk and let me catch some more ZZZ’s with my man here. He at least knows how to treat the morning and the master of this house.

Me:  He is the master of this house. He always treats himself to Sunday morning lay-ins.

Beau:  Oh. Louise. Louise. How cutely naïve you are. You may think you’re the mistress and he’s the master. But deep down, you know the truth.  The Top Dawg in this here dawggong house. Well. You know it. You’re talkin’ to him.

Me:  It’s doggone or gong show.  You mixed them into one metaphor.

Beau:  Metaphor Schmetafor. Don’t matter none. You know what I mean.

Me:  So you’re saying you’re the ‘Top Dawg’.

Beau:  Finally you’re catching on. Now. Go away and let me get my beauty rest. I’ll let you take me for a walk later.  Bye. Bye.

Me:  Well oh high and mighty one. I’m going for a walk without you. So there.

Beau:  There you go again, Ms Martyr.  See ya!  Now where’s my sleep mask? It’s a bit light in here.

And so I took myself for a walk all by myself. Don’t tell Beau, but it really wasn’t as much fun without him!

Sigh. He really is an incorrigible hound.  Oops. Sorry. Top Dawg.

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