Huh?

Beau: Louise, why do you always have to post photos of me with my tongue flapping in the breeze? It’s undignified!

Me: Why do you always have your tongue sticking out? It’s like you’re permanently trying to catch snowflakes, even in July.

Beau: (with a dramatic sigh) “Always”? Louise, you wound me with your sweeping generalizations! My tongue is a delicate instrument of expression, not some perpetually dangling participle. And for your information, “always” is a universal quantifier that simply doesn’t apply to the nuanced reality of my lingual activities.

Me: Huh? (Seriously? Where does he come up with this stuff?)

Beau: “Huh?” Seriously? That’s the best you can muster, Louise? “Huh?” It’s not a word, it’s barely a syllable! Use your words, woman! Articulate! Elucidate!

Me: Well, excuse me, Mr. Dictionary. You threw “universal quantifiers” at me! I got lost somewhere between your “dangling participle” and your blatant disregard for the Oxford comma.

Beau: (smirking) See? This is why I’m the brains of this operation. You get all flustered by a little bit of intellectual flexing.

Me: Intellectual flexing? You call that “intellectual flexing”?

Beau: Don’t be sarcastic, Louise. It clashes with your sensible shoes.

Me: But how am I supposed to perfect my sarcastic wit if I don’t practice?

Beau: (shaking his furry head) Darling, at your age, if sarcasm hasn’t blossomed naturally, it’s never going to happen. It’s like trying to teach an old dog new tricks.

Me: (pointing a finger) Aha! You just used a universal quantifier yourself! Pot, meet kettle.

Beau: In this case, Louise, it’s not a quantifier, it’s a cold, hard fact. Just as you humans say, “You can’t teach an old dawg new tricks,” we dawgs say, “You can’t teach a human to be witty if they’re past their prime.”

Me: Huh?

Beau: There you go again! “Huh?” It’s like you’re deliberately trying to sound inarticulate! What are you trying to say, woman? Spit it out!

Me: (sighing) I… I don’t know?

Beau: (grinning smugly) Ah, the rare moment of honesty. Cherish it, Louise.

Me: My head hurts.

Beau: Well, my reputation hurts. Thanks to your photographic shenanigans, my fans are going to think I’m some kind of drooling simpleton!

Me: Oh, trust me, Beau. No one who knows you thinks you’re capable of keeping your mouth shut.

Beau: Ouch! Low blow, Louise.

Me: (grinning foolishly) Sarcasm, Beau. See? I’m trying! Maybe this old dawg can learn new tricks.

Beau: (shaking his head) Never gonna happen. End of story.

Beau goes back to sniffing the daisies, leaving me to stew in my frustrated silence.

Beau: (without looking up) There aren’t enough daisies in the world to give you time to come up with a decent comeback, Louise.

And so, he has the last word, as always. Some days, I wonder how I’ll ever outsmart this dog.

Beau: (his voice muffled by a mouthful of daisies) Never gonna happen. End of story. Again.

And so it is. The life of a dawg blogger. Outwitted by my own furry muse.