Wit is not like a dog. It doesn’t always come when you call.

But then again, neither does the dog. At least, not mine.

So wit is like a dog. At least, like my dog.

Then where is wit, if not running to meet me? At the fence, barking at all the other wits? Should I be hanging out at the fence for inspiration?

I have taken the comparison too far. Wit is not trotting back and forth at the fence.

But then again, I haven’t once mentioned wagging tails, dog food, chasing balls, or a hundred other doggy clichés.

If you ask me, I have shown restraint.

But still.

I wish wit came when you called.

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