"Are you coming?" he called, from halfway down the block.

 

"Hang on," she called back.  "He's sniffing.  I think that, for dogs, this is their TV!"

 

"TV?" he asked, after she had caught up.  "That makes sense."

 

"Yup," she said, as they reached a fire hydrant and the dogs sniffed it thoroughly, "TV.  What do you think this episode is?" 

  

"It's a soap opera," he said.

 

"Aaah.  Right.  It has a big cast.  There's the Chihuahua-cross-Alsatian, product of forbidden love, repeating her mother's mistakes by laying down her scent for the dogs of the neighborhood."

 

"Then there's the old dog," he said, looking down at Puppy Dog lifting his leg to leave his mark on the hydrant.  "He was powerful once, but there's room for some young consigliere to rise up and control the gang now."

 

"Ooooh!" she said.  "There'll be snarling and growling when that happens!"

 

"Yeah," he said.  "And that poodle?  He's gonna make her his bitch!"

 

"I think we may need help," she laughed.

 

"That ship has sailed, Honey," he said, and they set off for home again.