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Leftovers


It’s a Dog’s Life . . .


DOG: [Jumping up and down as he greets us at the door]. You’re back! You’re back! You’re back!

ME: Of course. I said we wouldn’t be gone that long.

DOG: But it was soooooo long.

ME: It was only a couple of hours.

DOG: So very, very long.

ME: Well, we’re back now.

DOG: What did you bring me?

ME: What makes you think that I brought anything for you?

DOG: You went to dinner, right? I can smell it on you.

ME: Well, yeah, but . . .

DOG: And whenever you go to dinner you bring me a doggie bag.

ME: Not all of the time.

DOG: Yes; all of the time.

ME: Not this time.

DOG: Liar. I see that bag and I can smell what’s in it.

ME: Really? What do you think is in it?

DOG: [Sniff] Left over steak. [Sniff, sniff.] New York Strip. [Sniff, sniff, sniff.] Medium rare.

ME: Uncanny.

DOG: Gimme!

ME: Fine.


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