BowWow: I was kinda surprised you didn’t tell the vet people that I’m your next of kin. Actually, it bummed me out.

Minnie: Sorry, BowWow, but it doesn’t really work that way. The people are our next of kin or in charge or whatever.

BowWow: Did they ask you about an advanced directive?

Minnie: Did who ask me? And how did you hear about advanced directives?

BowWow: I know shit.

Minnie: Right. Okay. No. Nobody asked me about an advanced directive. I don’t have one. What the people decide is pretty much it for me.

BowWow: Jesus H, Minnie! That gives them total control over you. One snap of the fingers and you’re — poof — hanging out at Art’s Crematorium and Puppy Lodge.

Minnie: That place closed ten years ago. I heard them talking about it.

BowWow: Yeah, well, Davey, the big brown dog they had a long time ago, well, she came back in a box. In a bag in a box. A big pile of grey whatever. They just threw her all over the sand up north. We’ve probably peed on her a couple of times.

Minnie: That’s not a great image, BowWow. Why are you even talking about this? The surgery’s over. I’ve got all these stitches but it’s healing up. And the people find out in a few days how bad the cancer is. Maybe it’s all gone.

BowWow: What if it’s bad, Minnie? What if it’s really bad?

Minnie: If it is, it is. We still have a nice night on the porch. You only have so many of those, BowWow, no matter how long you live.