Beau’s Beef (and Blur)

Beaumont: Louise, darling, that photo of me is… shall we say, a masterpiece of blur. Like a Monet, if Monet had a severe tremor.

Me: What did you expect, Beau? You were doing your best impression of a caffeinated squirrel.

Beau: Oh, so I’m the problem? Classic Louise. You know what they say: “A poor photographer, in this case, a human with opposable thumbs, blames the subject.”

Me: I’m not blaming you, Beau. I’m merely stating a fact. A very wiggly, fluffy fact.

Beau: So, you’re calling me a “wiggly, fluffy fact?” Is that your nice way of saying “tool,” Louise? Because I’m pretty sure my vet bills alone qualify me as a high-end, bespoke tool.

Me: Of course not! But you did refuse to stand still amidst the… what were they? Those green things?

Beau: Heliobore? Smelliobore, more like. Honestly, Louise, flowers? I can’t even chew on them properly. Now, a T-bone steak? That’s a photo opportunity. I’d pose like a Renaissance masterpiece for a T-bone.

Me: Ha. Ha. Very funny, Beau.

Beau: Not as funny as you thinking I’d voluntarily pose with noxious weeds. Imagine the drama with a T-bone! Headline: “Louise Capitulates: Sir Beaumont of Sheepadoodle Finally Rewarded with Culinary Excellence.” The internet would implode with likes and shares.

Me: That’s not happening, Beau. Kibble and the occasional treat, remember?

Beau: I deserve that T-bone, Louise. I’m your therapist, muse, companion, and keeper of all your embarrassing secrets. I’ve endured your existential crises, critiqued your questionable fashion choices, and kept your deepest, darkest anxieties under the cone of silence you so generously provide.

Me: (sighs) You’re a great companion, Beau. I just think you’ll live longer on kibble.

Beau: Ah, Louise, always with the “logical” excuses. When will you learn? You’re so wrong, you’re practically orbiting Pluto. My fans agree, by the way. And did I mention…They’re a very vocal bunch.

Me: (another sigh) I know. I definitely know.

And yes, Beau’s loyal followers, I hear you. Beaumont’s 10th birthday is May 4th. Prepare for… something.

Beau: (interrupting) Prepare for a T-bone, Louise. Make it happen.

Me: We’ll see, Beau. We’ll see.

Beau: Excellent. Now, about those sausage treats Uncle Brian gave me… time is a-wasting! Chop chop!