Eight:

The next day, Brian dialed the phone.

"—hello," he said. "I would like to place an ad for a found dog." Spot entered the kitchen. "You. What do you want?"

"You are on the phone," said Spot. "I wait for you to finish the call."

"—hello?" said the operator. "—hello?" Brian hung-up the call.

"What do you want?" said Brian.

"I can only surrender to the can opener," said Spot. "The tool requires the defect of the human thumbs. The design is atrocious, no?" Brian served Spot a dish in front of the television. "The mustard, please."

"—hello," said Brian. "I would like to place an ad for a found dog. Yes. Found? Delusional, talking circus dog. Insists he's the King of the World. Also responds to 'Spot.'" Spot again entered the kitchen. "Can I call you back?"

"—hello?" said the operator. "—hello?" Brian hung-up the call.

"You," he said. "What now?"

"Come, come," said Spot. "Why must Monsieur le Brian play the ignoramus with my few, simple pleasures? Now is time for the bath."

"Time for your bath?" said Brian. "You had a bath yesterday. A bath once a week is plenty for a dog."

"The humans with no fur," said Spot. "They take the bath everyday. But the dogs with the fur, they do not?"

"They do not," said Brian. "Not when the dog likes to splash so much on the human that bathes him."

"—sacre bleu, I cannot believe how you contaminate my sensitive canine ears." Spot left the kitchen.

"—hello," said Brian. "I would like to place an ad for a found dog."

"—scoundrel," said Spot. "I hear the evil things you say." The little dog's mouth was foamy. A dinosaur toothbrush lollygagged in Spot's mouth.

"You're spraying toothpaste everywhere," said Brian. "Is that my toothbrush? Who said you could use my toothbrush?"

"—no, no," said Spot. "Do not hide the deceitful eyes. Your subterfuge I now realize."

"Have you been using my toothbrush all the time you've been here?" said Brian.

"Monsieur Backstabbing Traitor," said Spot. "When will you come to your senses? You must let someone love you. For which the dinosaur toothbrush is too little too late..."

"Keep that away from me," said Brian. "The places your mouth has been..."

"Enough, Monsieur le Backstab," said Spot. "I can stand to hear no more."

"Don't leave the house with your mouth foamy," said Brian. "You look like a mad dog."

"Le angry dog? I should say so." So the little dog dashed from the house.