Sparky the Neighborhood Dog

Having gone out last night with my friend Adam for a rare taste of the nightlife in Sanur, I arrived home some time around midnight to find Sparky waiting, rather disgruntled, on the porch.

"Do you know what time it is?" he said.

Feeling rather foggy after one too many beers, I answered, "Time for you to go home?"

"Uh, hello, I am home, he said.

"Uh, hello, you don't live here," I answered.

"That's a matter of opinion," he retorted, entering the house as I unlocked the door."

"What opinion is that?"

"Mine. And also I'm hungry. Where have you been at all hours of the night? Is this how you care for a pet?"

"Well, where are your owners? Did they not feed you?"

"Are you delusional?" he asked. But it was a rhetorical question, and he followed this with a more specific request for a slice of cheese.

"Sparky, Sparky, Sparky," I said, sighing. "What are you going to do if we have to move away?"

"It depends," he answered. "What's the place like? Are there fields? Are there other dogs? Is there a fridge. Is there cheese?"

"What? Where?"

"Where we're moving!" He rolled his eyes. "Jeeze. Are you drunk?"

"Hold on, now. Wait a minute. Let's start again from the top."

"You start from the top," he said. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed."