From the fluffy, oversized dog bed near the kitchen window, the baby German shepherd lifted his head and huffed dramatically. His name was Max, he was barely six months old, and despite having the ability to actually talk—yes, talk—his sweet owner Evenlynn still hadn’t figured it out.

“Evenlynn,” Max said with a wag of his tail and a very serious expression, “I’m not barking. I’m literally trying to ask if we’re going to the park today. Can we go to the park? Please?”

Evenlynn, a kind 14-year-old with a soft voice and a big heart, turned from the counter and looked at him. “Aw, are you hungry, Maxie?” she cooed, walking over and scratching behind his ears. “I’ll get you breakfast, baby boy.”

Max groaned. “No, I’m not hungry—well, okay, maybe a little. But I’m asking about the park! We haven’t been since Tuesday and I need to stretch my legs, lady!”

She just giggled as he barked once, clearly misunderstanding him again. “You’re such a loud puppy. So much personality.”

“I HAVE LANGUAGE SKILLS!” Max barked louder, flopping onto his side in full dramatic flair. “I quote movies. I understand metaphors. I can SPELL, EVENLYNN!”

She handed him his food bowl. “There you go, Max. Good boy.”

He gave her the biggest side-eye a dog could possibly give. “One day, girl. One day you’re gonna hear me actually say something and you’re gonna lose your mind. And I will be smug. So smug.”

Evenlynn bent down and kissed the top of his head. “You’re so funny, Maxie. I love you.”