Jenny, who is a dog, graduated yesterday. I sat in the audience, thrilled as any parent, as she shook paws with the Chancellor of the University, took her sheepskin in her mouth, and let someone, I think the Dean of Family Law, shift the tassel from left to right on her mortarboard.
The applause was deafening.
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“Lisa’s coming over tonight,” I said, frying up beef for some chili. “Are you all right with her bringing Mr. Kit?”
“Kit good,” said Jenny. She gets along okay with Lisa’s cat. They’re not close friends, but they’re not enemies either. Which is a good thing, since soon they’ll be living together.
“Kit smart.” Her tail thumped on the floor.
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“Congratulations, Jenny,” said Lisa. “I hear you were the top dog in your class.”
“Only dog.”
“It was a joke,” said Lisa.
“No,” said Jenny. “It was pun.” She turned to Mr. Kit. “Come, Kit,” she said. “Help me study.”
“You’re done, though,” said Lisa. “Aren’t you?”
“Bar exam,” said Jenny, and she and Mr. Kit went through the door into the living room.
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