A few weeks ago, we in America observed National Best Friends Day--and, in this house, I'm getting ready for Salvy's fifth birthday. Like Jimmy Stewart, I tend to sleep next to my dog. But Salvy has been exiled for a few days. There is a new bedroom in the house, and sheets of glass are not yet ready for the staircase, so I've asked Salvy to remain on a different floor. I didn't want him accidentally throwing himself down the stairs, like Kristin Johnson in "Sex and the City." (This actually became a nightmare for me.) Salvy has handled his exile with grace, and he is also doing fine with a new car position. He can't be in the backseat anymore, because a tiny infant has occupied his spot. On rare occasions, Salvy will lose his sense of equanimity, and he'll dig a soiled diaper out of a garbage can. He will then shred the diaper and leave it all over the floor--and I think, this way, he is communicating with me. He is saying: "I'm generally f...