You know, Iggy, I wish we knew exactly how you got heartworms.

“Bad luck, I guess.”

You’ve been on heartworm prevention since we adopted you. Something went wrong. It’s not just bad luck.

“It floats around. It’s got to land on somebody.”

But it makes no sense that–

“It was my turn, that’s all. I was in the path of the tornado. I just didn’t expect the storm would last as long as it has.”

Well, just a couple more days and your confinement is over.

“Good.”

Yep.

“Forty years I been asking permission to piss.”

Relax. It’s only 30 days of confinement, not forty years. Besides, you’re only two years old.

“I can’t squeeze a drop without say-so.”

Damn right you can’t. No peeing in the house.

“Hmmph.”

You’ll live.

“Karen?”

Yes?

“I understand you’re a woman who knows how to get things.”

What?

“I need a—“

Not happening. So don’t get your hopes up.

“Hope is a good thing—“

Not this time, it isn’t.

“–maybe the best of things—“

Nope.

“—and no good thing ever dies.”

Give up.

“I will be hoping for a poodle.”

Could we put on something other than The Shawshank Redemption now? It’s doing things to you.

“I hear the bite reflex is so strong they have to pry the victim’s jaws open with a crowbar.”

Right, that’s it. Gimme the remote.