"Dad, when was the last time I barked?"

The Bob enjoys his morning coffee

The bark was muffled by the glass, but it was clearly a bark. Brian is a man-eating beast of an an animal, part chocolate lab, part oxen, and his bark is formidable.

"Was that you or the dog?"

Without removing my fingers from the keyboard, I simply stare at him, blank faced, for multiple seconds, in silence.

"I just heard a noise, and couldn't tell..."

Blank faced.

"Was that a real question?"

"Yes," my dad says, starting to laugh nervously.

"Was that me," I repeat, in sentence form, "or the dog." Removing the inflection serves to illustrate just how ludicrous of a question it is. "Dad," I say, "when was the last time I barked?"

Brian sniffs The Bob's arm pit as he enjoys his morning coffee

"I couldn't see the dog," he says, "and I was just wondering --"

"Dad. If I was blind, I'm still not asking, when I hear a bark, 'Was that you? Or was it the dog?'"

He sips his coffee.

"You've reached a new low point, Dad." Even lower that the "Not really blonde -- she has short hair" conversation.

And I return to work.