Fleegle walks up to where I’m standing at the dog park, grumbling about something. “Petulant, spoiled, entitled, immature, arrogant, narcissistic, twit,” Fleegle says, rubbing his paw on his nose.

“Who are you talking about?” I ask.

“That poodle over there that bit me.”

“Where’d you learn all those words?”

“I’m just repeating what you said about the poodle’s owner when she cut you off in the parking lot in her shiny car.”

“Oh.”

“You know how Labradors are called Labs for short? Are poodles called poo?”

“When they bite you they are,” I say.

“Or cut you off,” Fleegle says.

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