Scraps Has the Last Word

Jason spotted the puddle the moment he entered the room. “Scraps,” he yelled. Seconds later, a happy mutt bounded through the doorway, his tail wagging vigorously. “Did you do this?” scowled Jason. He pointed to the puddle, as though the dog would understand.

“What makes you think it was me?” said Scraps. Jason’s jaw dropped, and he backed away out of fear and confusion. Before he could gather his wits enough to speak, Scraps continued. “Always blame the dog first. Is that it?”

“You’re talking,” Jason finally managed to say.

“You’re a genius,” said Scraps.

“But that’s not possible.”

“I’m afraid I have to disagree.”

“Okay, I get it,” said Jason. “I’m hallucinating. Either you’re not really talking or you’re not Scraps. You’re, I don’t know, maybe a small person in a dog suit.”

“Oh, I can assure you that I’m really talking,” said Scraps. “As for your dog suit theory, how does that implicate me in this puddle situation? If I’m a human in a dog suit, and I peed, wouldn’t the puddle be inside my dog suit, rather than on the rug?”

“Okay,” said Jason. “Dog or not, you’re getting a little too smart alecky.” He pointed again to the puddle on the floor. “Now,” he said, “You have one minute to explain this.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” said Scraps.

“And why not? I don’t know how you’re doing it, but you appear to be perfectly capable of talking.”

“Oh, I can talk all right.”

“Then I repeat, you have one minute to explain this.”

“Can’t do it,” said Scraps.

“And why not?”

“Silly human. Everyone know that dogs have no concept of time.”