The other day I let Sam go outside, and promptly realized there was good garden photography to be had; I ran back inside for five seconds to grab the camera. When I came back out, this happened:

Hey Sam, whatcha doin there?

Hey, where’d you go?

I was getting worried. I couldn’t see you and thought maybe you’d ceased to exist. Then who’d feed me?

Oh, calm down. I went inside for five seconds to grab the camera. Look – the broccoli’s blooming! I wanted to take pictures!

Whatever. I don’t care about the broccoli.

Aw, come on, Sam, don’t be like that. Want me to scratch your belly?

Why that would be simply marvel… NO! I cannot be bought with promises of belly scratches.

In fact, look! Look at this! I’m rolling around in the grass, which I will then track into the house! You’ll have to sweep it up! THAT’S WHAT YOU GET.

Now quit that, Sam. Quit it right this minute.

Fine. But I’m still mad at you.

Oh, come on, Sam. Don’t be mad. Want to come inside and eat a piece of cheese?

Oh, all right. I can’t stay mad at you.

…aaaand scene.