You know, Stan, I was gone all day yesterday. I went down to New York and spent time with my good friend and her two delightful little dogs, Moon and Arlo. They’re Bichon Frises.


You betrayed me. I smelled it as soon as you came in the door. Their smell was all over your body, it’s disgusting.

It couldn’t be all over my body, Stanley, they’re too small. They can only reach up to my knees, and that’s only when they get up on their hind legs.

You could have taken a shower before you came home. How do you think I feel when I see you’ve been with Bichon Frises? By the way, is that a dog?

Of course it’s a dog.

Small purebreds! Uggh.

I don’t know why you dislike them, they’re actually very cute, Stanley.

Cute! Is that a word you’d use for me?

Never, Stan.

That’s right. Big dogs ain’t cute. Big dogs are dogs. I hate cute. I hate sweet.

You’ve been sweet, Stan.

Name one time I’ve been sweet!

Stan, you’re being silly. Those little dogs are fluffy—


They’re clean and beautifully groomed.

Don’t even think about grooming me.

They’re beautiful creatures. And you know what they eat, Stanley?

Not Purina Dog Chow, I bet.

Right on, Stan. They had roast chicken last night. Sometimes they get salmon, sometimes even filet mignon. Yesterday morning my friend fed them this premium dog food which they wouldn’t touch.

I guess they’re not all that stupid after all.

And she lets them stand on their hind legs and beg at the table, Stanley.

You’d yell at me if I even tried.

She doesn’t let them out in the cold, Stan.

That’s because they’re not real dogs. Real dogs go out in any weather!

Really? What else do real dogs do, Stanley?

Real dogs never jump up on their hind legs.

You used to do that, Stanley, till you got too old.

Real dogs don’t have a wardrobe, they don’t have a bath every month, they don’t wear bows on their ears and bandannas around their necks. When are you going to see your friend next?

Why, Stan?

Can I come?