Scene: I am sitting on the living room couch at night, watching television. Eddie, an elderly Jack Russell Terrier (hard of hearing, weak of eyesight, short on working teeth, long on attitude), comes into the room carrying an object.
Me: Um…Ed, what the…what is that dead thing in your mouth?
Eddie: [talking with mouth full] Srhbit.
Eddie: SRHBIT! DUH! Iguhbny!
Me: [taking a closer look] Oh, Jesus H. Van Orman Quine, you just brought a dead bunny into my house! What gives, Ed?
Eddie: [throws shade]
Me: Dude, why did you bring it in here? I mean, sure, yay, it’s impressive that you caught it — good job! But…um…you weren’t planning on stashing that in here, were you?
Me: No. Rules are rules, man. We keep the undetached rabbit parts outside, regardless of their current state of animation.
Eddie: *sigh* WVER. [goes back outside with his prize]
Scene: The next morning, I am sitting at the kitchen table, eating breakfast. Eddie goes out to the yard and comes back again with the same rabbit (still pining for the fjords, apparently).
Me: Oh, not again — Ed, you can’t have that in here!
Eddie: [mouth again full] Buh…BNY! YUM!
Me: I get that you like a good, aged bit of vermin, but, um, no. All of the NO. HELL to the NO.
Me: No. No exceptions for a new rabbit slice out of the time-space continuum. NO.
Eddie: *sigh* [unintelligible canine muttering]
Me: No. We can talk about Wittgenstein later. Take that thing outside.
[Eddie makes his disgruntled way outdoors]
To be continued?