Happy 10th Birthday Beau!

Me: Happy Birthday Beau!

Beaumont: Ah… thank you dear Louise. Ten glorious years! A full decade of bestowing my dignified presence upon this household. So, it’s time we cut to the chase. The celebratory steak. Where is it?

Me: Steak for breakfast, Beau? Really?

Beau: Reconsider your culinary limitations, Louise. Have you not encountered the legendary ‘steak and eggs’? Though to my sophisticated palate, the eggs are merely… decorative. Just the prime cut, if you please. Chop chop.

Me: You know you’re testing the boundaries here, Beau, right?

Beau: Boundaries? Are those the invisible lines you attempt to impose on my inherent right to birthday indulgence?

Me: Haha. Amusing. No, Beau. Those are the rapidly eroding walls of my patience.

Beau: My dear Louise, my patience is the one teetering on the precipice! Ten years! A milestone deserving of significant carnivorous commemoration! When did I last taste a proper steak? Wasn’t it back in the Paleozoic era… oh wait, no, years ago in Calgary before we moved to this paradise. And even then, it was thanks to the discerning generosity of my devoted fans!

Me: Remind me, didn’t you just have some of Carol’s leftover steak the other night?

Beau: Leftovers, Louise? Those were the scant remnants deemed unworthy of your and your fellow omnivore’s refined palates. I speak of a whole steak. A magnificent two-pound testament to my decade of exemplary companionship.

Me: Two pounds, Beau! That’s bordering on over-indulgent, not to mention bankruptcy, at today’s prices!

Beau: Oh how your poor human brain is prone to exaggeration. Well, if we can’t agree on 2 lb, being the magnanimous birthday boy I am, I shall graciously negotiate down to a single, respectable pound. For now.

Me: Still a considerable amount of beef, Beau. Surely half of that would be… celebratory?

Beaumont: Half? Louise, are we celebrating a decade of my brilliance or what? However, again, my gracious nature prevails. I accept your half-pound offering.

Me: Hold on a minute. Did you just… (not so subtly) manipulate me into agreeing to a birthday steak?

Beau: Manipulate? Perish the thought! Think of it as a strategic negotiation to acquire my much deserved celebratory sustenance. A masterclass in persuasive discourse, if you will. It’s a gift. To you. You get to witness my superior intellect in action.

Me: And what if I suddenly develop a case of selective hearing? What if your ‘wishes’ simply… vanish into the birthday ether?

Beau: Are you prepared to face the wrath of my considerable and highly opinionated fanbase, Louise? They know it’s my special day. They expect steak. Disappointing them would be… unwise.

Me: (Sighing dramatically) Oh gawd. I’ve been outsmarted (again) by a ten-year-old fluffball with bedroom eyes and impeccable negotiation skills not to mention a devoted online army. Will I ever learn?

Beau: Doubtful, Louise. You humans are so delightfully predictable. Now, about that steak…