What I learned about humans and rules.

Story By Clif Travers

Let’s go!” Ollie says.

“Go where?” I ask.

“Time to go out!”

He cocks his head in wonder at my stupidity.

I look at my watch. “It’s only eight-thirty. We usually go out at nine.”

“Tell that to my bladder.”

Ollie is my dog. He’s a rat terrier mix I rescued about ten years ago. We talk. It’s what happens when you live alone with a dog, especially when said dog can talk back.

Read the full story in the digital magazine above.