It wasn’t until they sent him to the psychiatrist that Ari realized dogs weren’t supposed to talk. Prior to that, he’d simply figured that his parents were kidding.
After all, when the dog wanted out, they let him out; when he wanted food, they gave it to him (or lectured him about begging, which was basically the same thing). They never acted as if they didn’t understand what Titan was saying, they just acted like they didn’t care. The Newfoundland never took offense to the slights –he was a rather happy-do-lucky mountain of a dog– so Ari didn’t either.
And now he was sitting in a pleasant beige and green office, filled with lots of books, and toys, and framed bits of paper that meant the lady sitting here playing Legos with him apparently Knew Things.
Ari wasn’t stupid; a little overly generous when it came to assumptions about other people’s comprehension levels, yes. Stupid, no. So when the very concerned psychiatrist suggested that maybe dogs couldn’t talk, he immediately agreed. This got him a cookie, a pat on the head, and a pair of immensely relieved looks from his parents. All was once again well with the world, and the family returned home.
Once the coast was clear, Ari snuck off to have a good long talk with Titan…
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