Robby and I laugh at a lot of the same stuff. Sometimes we even make identical puns simultaneously. I find his deadpan tweet-humor hilarious. He laughs hysterically at my corny “daddy jokes.” We both think those AT&T “It’s not complicated” spots (pickle roll, puppy brother, at al) with the little kids and the serious adult suit sitting around the miniature table are a riot. All this in spite of the fact that Robby’s a 19-year-old frat boy and I’m . . . older. Oh — and then we make fun of Carol when she doesn’t think any of these things are nearly as amusing as we do.
There’s one particular concept both Robby and I find endlessly fascinating: that an animal lives in our house with us. You know, just kind of pads around. Or makes himself comfortable on the green couch in the den. An animal. In our house. And everyone’s fine with it.
Robby might start the conversational ball rolling by saying, “Hey! Look at that! There’s an animal in the kitchen drinking from a bowl!” Later, while Robby’s watching SportsCenter, I’ll chime in: “Oh my God, Robby! That’s an animal snuggling up next to you!” Then Robby will ask, “Do you think other animals” — by this he means the deer who are regulars in our yard, the wild turkeys we always see along the stone wall out back, the woodchuck who lives under the garden shed — “are jealous of Ricky?” He wonders if they’d like to be the ones who are allowed to live inside. Have free run of the house. Sleep on a Mets fleece on top of an easy chair in the master bedroom. After all, he says, why dogs? Why not, say, squirrels?
Once we start cruising on this topic, there’s no stopping us. When Ricky licks my face, Robby’ll say, “That’s an animal kissing you. Would you let a muskrat do that?” And I’ll reply, “So you let an animal sleep in your bed with you. Would you let a black bear do that?”
Are you feeling this? You get what I’m saying, right? Not really? Hmmm. I’m thinking that maybe Robby and I should have just kept this one between us . . .
LOOK FOR A NEW BEAGLE MAN POST EVERY THURSDAY. OR PRETTY CLOSE TO THURSDAY. COULD BE WEDNESDAY. OR FRIDAY. LET’S NOT GET TOO OBSESSIVE HERE . . . 
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