Small Dog and I talk to each other all the time.
Sometimes our conversations are deeply philosophical, sometimes they're purely functional.
Tonight we had a mix of both.....
SD: Muuuuurrrrmmmm.....hurrie uppp with mai dinnur. Ai am starvven.
Me: Oh for goodness sake. I'm doing it! OK? Patience is not your forte.
SD: Forty! FORTY?!? Ai am onlie nein, as well yue kno.
Me: You're nearly ten. Do you know how old that is in dog years?
Me: No. According to the Pedigree website, in human years you are nearly 56 years old and are considered a senior dog.
At this point there was a loaded silence, during which Small Dog gave me a long, hard stare.
SD: Phiphty sicks. PHIPHTY SICKS!!!!
Another long silence......
SD: Seenyore dog. SEENYORE DOG!!!!
Me: I'm sorry ..... but yes. Like the rest of us you are no longer a spring chicken.
SD: *deflated* seenyore dog. Ai kannot evin hardlie bileev itt.
Me: * attempting to lighten the conversation* But look on the bright side. There's life in the old dog yet!
SD: *withering look* Harummph. So. Ai am neerlie retyrd. Thats OKAI. Ai eckspekt ai wil gett a penshun.
SD: O bluddiehell. Shurlie ai gett a penshun. Ai have bean Hedd of Markitten & Komewnikashun.... thatt is a importent possishun. Grate responsibilutie. Perques of the jobb and orl thatt.
Me: Yes. Well. I'm sure you will qualify for a pension commensurate with your level of management skills.
SD: Ai shude thinc so too. *mumbel, muttr.... seenyore dog... phiphty sicks.... peepul thees dais have kno respekt fore ther eldurs.
SD: *brightening* Stil mummm....ai am yunger than YUE.
Me: Yes. Yes you are. Well done.