Carrot Cake

Me: What is this?

Tierce:  Looks like a paper bag.  On the floor.  Yep, that’s what it is.  A paper bag on the floor.

Me:  Correction.  It used to be a paper bag.  Now it is a soggy collection of cellulose.  On the floor.

Tierce: I don’t see what this has to do with me.

Me:  Did this bag contain the slice of carrot cake I brought from the farmers market today?

Tierce:  I really couldn’t say.  Dog memory, you know.  Very short.

Me:  This was going to be my breakfast tomorrow.

Tierce:  You really should eat healthier.  And it’s more convenient for you; I don’t really like apples.

Me:  So the mystery of you pooping four times has now been solved.

Tierce:  You really have the most amazing powers of deduction.

Me:  Let’s get one thing straight.  Food in bags is mine.  You will not touch anything that is in a bag.  You will not eat anything that is wrapped in anything.  You will not seek to take that which is mine.

Tierce:  Uh, sure.  Wait, what about the stuff you don’t want?

Me:  What do you mean, ‘the stuff I don’t want’?

Tierce:  Well, you throw stuff in the garbage all the time.  You don’t want it.  So I figure, that means that I can-

Me:  No.

Tierce:  No?

Me:  There will be no foraging in the garbage.

Tierce:  Uh… okay.

Me:  What?

Tierce:  Have you been to the bathroom lately?

Me:  No, I just got in the door.  Why?

Tierce:  Don’t go up there.

Me:  Whyyy?

Tierce:  It’s just… you shouldn’t.

Me:  Well, we’ll just see about tha- OH MY DOG, THAT’S DISGUSTING! YOU LITTLE PRICK!

Tierce:  Well, you didn’t want that!  You were going to throw it all away!

Me:  THERE WILL BE NO TOUCHING THE GARBAGE.  THERE WILL BE NO FORAYS TO THE BATHROOM.  THIS AREA IS FORBIDDEN TO YOU FOR ALL TIME.

Tierce:  So where am I going to get a drink?

Me:  In your bucket!  Where the hell do you think?!

Tierce:  That only gets changed like, twice, three times a day.  The toilet water gets changed all the time.

Me:  Let me make something clear.  You like eating?

Tierce:  One of my all-consuming hobbies.

Me:  You like your walks?

Tierce:  Sure, gives me a chance to be awesome in front of other people.

Me:  You like getting treats?

Tierce:  You know it.

Me:  Stay out of the damn bathroom or that all goes away.  I’ll confine you to the house and feed you gruel.

Tierce:  What’s ‘gruel’?

Me:  Bland oatmeal that looks like watery barf.

Tierce:  Hey, don’t knock the barf until you try it.

Me:  You know what?  I’m going to get another dog.  A better dog.  You know, like a Border Collie.  A Labrador Retriever.  Something docile and mindlessly obedient.

Tierce:  Oh, a sycophant.

Me:  No, a pleasurable companion.

Tierce:  A brainwashed minion.

Me:  A well-trained helpmeet.

Tierce:  A servile peon.

Me:  A noble comrade.

Tierce:  No matter how you dress it up, it still reveals your need for an assistant to enable your delusions of grandeur.

Me:  And you’re a better choice?

Tierce:  I’m here to ensure that you never think better of yourself than you really are.

Me:  How comforting.

Tierce:  I like to think of myself as an aversion therapy dog.