How to tell your dog you're going back to the office

Human: So we have to talk.

Dog: I can't talk. I experience the world through a symphony of aromas, the angle of the sun, and how much my butt does, or does not, itch.

Human: Right, OK, but for the purposes of this story, let's assume you can.

Dog: OK. [Scratching.] Now, what were we talking about? Was it food? By the way, there is week-old squirrel poop on your shoe.

Human: Which one?

Dog: The one that smells of week-old squirrel poop! You mean you don't know? How can you not know?

Human: Never mind. I have some news: I'm going back to the office.

Dog: Great! I love you! Do you have a treat? Uh, what does "going to the office" mean?

Human: I'll leave in the morning, I'll be gone all day, and when I come back at 6 p.m. you'll be happy to see me and you'll get a treat and then a walk. Just like it used to be.

Dog: That sounds horrible. Are you sure this used to happen?

Human: It did.

Dog: But why? Why would you go away all day and not bring me along?

Human: The office is a place you wouldn't understand. It's full of people —

Dog: People are awesome! They have food! Does the office have food?

Human: People bring lunch, yes, or they go out and eat elsewhere.

Dog: But they have food? Or at least smell of food?

Human: Yes.

Dog: It sounds great! Count me in! If you were worried I wouldn't want to go, I'm all for it. Let's go to the office now and smell people and food and food on people! I'll bet there will be food on the floor! Oh, I love floor food!

Human: You can't.

Dog: Why not?

Human: Because it's the office.

Dog: Why do you want to go to a place where I can't go?

Human: It's complicated.

Dog: How? Like when the letter carrier comes and you also smell hamburger from somewhere and you don't know whether food overrides threat? Because I'm here to tell you, that's really not complicated at all. You deal with the letter carrier first because he might be coming for your hamburger.

Human: No, it's not —

Dog: I mean he's probably coming for your hamburger.

Human: Look, you'll be fine. I know you don't remember how this was before, but you did fine. Trust me.

Dog: Oh, if you put it that way. Trust you? I do. I love you. When are you going back to the office?

Human: Tomorrow.

Dog: Got it. One thing, before you shut off this magic where I can talk, explain something I don't get. [Thirty seconds of intense scratching.] Explain "tomorrow."

Human: I could, but if you understood that, you wouldn't be a dog.

Dog: OK. That's fine. I'll go back to being nonverbal again. Let me just say I'll miss you. I know you know that, but I'll really, really miss you.

Human: Me, too.

Dog: Yeah, but you still go away.

Human: Yeah, but you ran away for a night chasing rabbits.

Dog: Got me there. Give my regards to the office, the way I would.

Human: No, I will not pee on someone else's cubicle.

Dog: Suit yourself. If you don't, someone else will pee on yours.

Human: Are you sure you don't know what an office is?

(COMMENT, BELOW)

James Lileks
Minneapolis Star Tribune/ (TNS)

James Lileks is a columnist for the Minneapolis Star Tribune.