Alice, a Beagle, enters the living room, where Comet, another Beagle, is napping on the loveseat. Comet lifts his head and sniffs.
Comet: Somebody’s been to the vet. Alice: Right-o. Comet: Treats? Alice: That chicken-mush baby food and Pill Pockets. Comet: Pills? Alice: Probably, somewhere. Didn’t chew. Comet: Smart. You sick? Alice: Thanks for noticing. Colitis. Comet: Metronidazole twice a day with food. Alice: You could have saved me a ride in the car. Comet: I thought you liked the car. Alice: I don’t hate it the way you do, but that’s true of every mammal on the planet. Comet: I’m all right in the car. Alice: You whimper like you’re on death row. Comet: I think of it as keening. Alice: Then you’re giving keening a bad name. I think of it as being a basket case. Comet: Colitis, huh? You under stress? Alice: You’re kidding, right? Comet: Um. Maybe I missed something. Alice: They should print that on your collar. First there was the move … Comet: We moved? Alice: Amazing. What did you think that 10-hour car ride was about, with you … keening … all the way? Comet: To me they all seem to last forever. Alice: Next trip I’ll cry like a schoolgirl for a couple of hours and see if that doesn’t sharpen your sense of time passing. You didn’t notice we’re in a new house? Comet: But the loveseat … Alice: Same loveseat, different house. Comet: It does smell different. Alice: There you go. Comet: Ten hours? Alice: Every minute of it. And you whining start to finish. Comet: Change upsets me. Alice: I’m the one with colitis. Comet: Moved! Ha! I thought I was just disoriented. Alice: A safe bet. You can’t smell the ocean? Comet: Duh. Alice: Could you smell the ocean before? Comet: Before? Alice: Focus. Before the 10-hour car ride. Comet: Who remembers? No wonder you’ve got colitis. Alice: That’s what I was thinking.