“Patrick? What’s wrong with the dog? Did you break her?”

“No, I’m pretty sure she’s always been a little…special.”

“But don’t you think this is kind of excessive? I mean…look at her. I think that I need to video this and share it with the internet.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Why not? This shit is hysterical!”

“Well as soon as you get up to go get the camera she’ll follow you and she isn’t going to do it again. Can’t this just be our little show? Is nothing sacred anymore? I just want to protect our children from the internet!”

“But what if she’s really telling us ‘I know what the winning lottery numbers are and if you would please take me to the closest lottery ticket outlet I will happily sprout opposable thumbs and a divine mastery of the English language and share my knowledge with you even filling out the ticket with my newly acquired thumbs. Also? More steak for dinner, please and perhaps a latte. Nonfat of course.’ We would NEVER know. We would think that her thoughts were limited to play, lick, eat, sleep, poop, and swim. We are SELLING OUR CHILD SHORT and maybe someone on the internet could help us!”

“What is it like, exactly, to live in your head?”

“Well, when she grows up and never fulfills her true potential and she traces it all back to this one moment, what are you going to do?”

“Probably follow your lead and blame Brenda Walsh.”

(For the record…Belle was kind of standing up but only with her back legs. She was twisted over in the middle of her body and lying down on her front legs with her head laid over on the side and her mouth was open baring her teeth in her “Bring it on bitches!” look and she was making this little noises with her throat. Her ass? Was straight up in the air.)