Bao has made himself at home in Cruise Beagle's basket.

Cruise -- as always -- is being the perfect gentleman, and treating this development with his usual aplomb. Cruise hardly ever loses his cool. He's a sort of canine Cary Grant. Elegant, understated, unflappable.

I'll always remember the first time he and Bao met. I'd only just moved in, and one afternoon we encountered Morag and Cruise walking by the marina. The dogs took a liking to each other from the start, and so did we. It was late afternoon. Come back to my place for a drink, said Morag. I accepted with alacrity, delighted at the prospect of making a new friend.

As soon as we walked in the door, Bao headed straight for Cruise's pile of toys and grabbed Pink Pig, Cruise's favorite stuffed animal. Put it down! I said. He wouldn't. Give it to me! I demanded. He wouldn't. It's okay, Morag said. Cruise doesn't mind.

But I minded. It was so embarrassing.

Morag poured the Scotch, while Bao resisted my attempts to wrest Pink Pig from his slobbering little mouth. We chatted. The sun went down over Biscayne Bay. Bao was still holding on to Pink Pig. He can take Pink Pig home with him, Morag said graciously.

How could you humiliate me like this? I asked Bao.

Bao knew that if he opened his mouth I'd snatch Pink Pig, so of course he didn't say a word.

I apologized for my ill-mannered little boy, hoping Morag would continue to speak to me. And eventually, Bao did relinquish Pink Pig, albeit somewhat worse for wear. Cruise never gave it a second thought and that Christmas, Morag surprised Bao with a Pink Pig of his own.