Six:

Brian struggled to keep Spot's tail from poking out his beard.

"I don't care what this end says," said Brian. "I'm not responding."

"Monsieur le Brian," said Spot. "We must infiltrate this place you call 'supermarket.' We dogs do not have the sweat glands. The heavy coat is very hot, no?"

"You insisted on shopping with me," said Brian.

"You go to secure for me the vital sustenance," said Spot. "Considering your opportunities for mischief distresses me to no end."

"You're lucky I don't pick you up cat chow," said Brian. "Let's go."

"The cereal kibble?" said Spot.

"It makes its own gravy," said Brian. "Just add water."

"Monsieur le Brian," said Spot. "The intestines of the human beings? They have the nooks and crannies for the long digestion. But the intestines of the canines? The preferred meal is the smelly animal entrails. Especially mingled with the haunted odor of fermenting decomposition. The commercial dog food is instead processed to keep the caregivers from when they feed the dogs — how do you say it? From the belligerent vomiting. From the hostile upchucking. From the violent projectile regurgitation. To prevent the cud insurgencies."

"What will keep you from treasure-hunting the neighborhood trash cans?" said Brian.

"The liver, the kidneys, the tripe. The parts of the body that do not move." Spot sniffed the air and delivered them to the deli and meat departments.

"Your tummy seems to be holding a party and forgot to invite you," said the cashier to whom Brian took his armful of pungent dark and gray packaged meats.

"I have indigestion," said Brian.

"Well, I don't think all of these rich meats will help your indigestion any," she said.

"I have a special condition," said Brian. "My intestines are very smooth, like a dog's. I require rich foods that digest quickly. No fiber."

"Sounds like a tough life," she said. "Eating all that rich food. How would a girl keep her figure?"

"Please," said Brian. "I am very sensitive about my condition."

"I'm sorry." The cashier bagged Brian's order. "$19.54, please."

"That was a good year." Brian once witnessed his Aunt Kelly's husband make a cashier laugh with that line. Aunt Kelly's husband is handsome. Brian inspired no laughter.

"Feel better soon," she said. Brian put his sight on the exit, and freedom.

"Sir?" said the security guard. "Isn't that coat out of season?"

"—no," said Spot underneath Brian's beard. "We — I mean, I — steal nothing. Either take us, which is to say me, into the custody. Or let us go. By which I mean me."

"If you've done nothing wrong, why disguise yourself?" said the guard.

"The dog insisted on coming along," said Brian. "He wanted to make sure I fed him what he wanted."

"Indeed," said the guard.

"This dog ran away from the circus," said Brian. "He knows how to talk."

"Bark, bark, bark," said Spot.

"What are you trying to pull?" said Brian.

"Bark, bark, le bark," said Spot.

"I think you had better come with me, young man," said the guard.

"Why silent now, Mr. 'I am the King of the World?'" said Brian.

"I hear nobody likes the show off," said Spot.