Bubba: So, I was reading about the protests in the Middle East and—
Max: Reading? Is that like eating?
Bubba: No. You use your eyes instead of your mouth.
Max: You really must have to blink a lot to chew up a cookie.
Bubba: (baring her teeth and growling low in her throat) No, doofus, you use your eyes to see words.
Max: Oh, I get it. Kinda like when I see SQUIRREL?
Bubba: (sighing) Sort of. Except you don’t look in the yard, you look in the newspaper.
Max: The one Dad gets off the step in the morning? The one he saves the bags from to pick up our poop? The one that makes him all red in the face about something he calls politics?
Bubba: Right. That one. So I was reading about—
Max: How did you hold it up? We don’t have thumbs.
Bubba: I didn’t hold it up. It’s lying out on the patio.
Max: Oh, in the place where Mom puts it because you’re not a boy dog ad you hate to squat in the wet grass?
Bubba: (sighing louder) Thanks for sharing that with everyone. Right. The paper is on my spot. Anyway, so people are protesting for more rights and freedom and democracy and I think we need that too.
Max: Yeah. Freedom. Democracy. Rights. I want a whole goo-gob of rights. (Gets a suspicious look on his face) Wait just a doggone minute. Are those all good things?
Max: As good as dog cookies?
Bubba: Yes. Even better.
Max: What do they taste like?
Bubba: (groaning) You can’t eat them. They’re concepts.
Max: Uh, right, I got it. Concepts. Uh, huh, uh huh. (Tilting his head) Then why do we want them?
Bubba: Because Mom and Dad are dictators. They decide when we eat and when we walk and how many cookies we get. And they make us wear collars.
Max: Mine is blue.
Bubba: And they make us do tricks to get treats.
Max: Yours is pink.
Bubba: Pay attention.
Max: I like my collar.
Bubba: That’s not the point. We should decide what we wear, when we eat, and how many cookies we get.
Max: Yay, cookies. Let’s protest. Right now. Power to the canines!
Let’s . . . lets . . . uh, how we gonna protest?
Bubba: We make signs and lists of our demands.
Max: Uh, looks like we’re back to that “no thumbs” problem.
Bubba: Much as I hate to admit it, you’re right. Okay then, we’ll refuse to obey them until they make concessions.
Max: Ha. How is that different from what you do now? When it’s time to do tricks, you roll over once and then just sit there.
Bubba: That’s not true.
Max: Is so.
Bubba: Is not.
Max: Is so.
Bubba: (Shaking her head till her collar jingles) Hey, look out the window. Isn’t that a—?