Two short stories

Yesterday was beautiful and warm, so Zorro and I went out front.  He raced around the front yard, exhausting himself while I set about putting a short, decorative garden fence around it.  (How come everything looks easy in the directions and pictures, when in real life it can be a b---h?)  I decided to do this because I have elderly friends stopping by to chat, and his leash gets wrapped around their ankles and mine.  Since we are a litigation orientated society these days, I could see possible law suits pending on the horizon so decided to take affirmative action.  I do have a liability policy, but hope I never have to use it.

This morning I open the front door.  Zorro and I are taking in the splendors of the gorgeous morning, when suddenly he begins to bark in earnest.  I look up and down the street but see nothing out of the ordinary.  I can't figure out what has him so upset.  I walk away from the door, he follows and the barking stops.  I go about my morning activities, but see every time he goes to the door he barks and barks.  Pondering this, and come to realize he is barking at the fence, I don't think he knows what it is, but that it has invaded his yard and wants to go out and stake his claim.  Silly pooch.

Second story.  I decided today was the day to change bed linens.  ( I frequently change the pillowcases, the sheets, not so much) and since I have more laundry to do I decided today was the perfect day to change the sheets as well (a job normally done when I can't remember the last time I did it...DON'T JUDGE ME.)   I  gave Zorro his allotment of peanut butter, and was hurriedly remaking the bed when he and Frankie came into the room.  Zorro immediately jumped up on the bed, rubbing his chin on the top blanket, I guess to get the excess peanut butter off.  Frankie sprawls herself across the bed as well.  So much for finishing the bed.

I bribe Zorro with extra peanut butter, but when I return to the bed room, Frankie is still laying across the bed.

Me:  "You want some peanut butter, too?"
Frankie: "No, I'm sick, sick, sick of peanut butter."
Me:  "How can I bribe you to get off the bed."
Frankie:  "It'll take a lot more than peanut butter."
Me:  "Spam?"
Frankie:  "Nope."

I give her a shove and she rolls over so I can move the blankets up a little."

Me:  "A home cooked, meat and potatoes meal?"
Frankie: "Nope."

I roll her back.

Me:  "last night's left-overs, (a vegetable casserole)."
Frankie: (examining her fingernails) "Nope."

This goes on for several minutes.  I offer suggestions, she refuses every one.

I finally manage to complete the, roll-pull chore, the bed is made.

Frankie sits up, stretches, yawns and finally gets up from the bed.

Frankie:  "I'm glad you didn't offer me kibble, I hate kibble, THAT IS strictly for dogs only.  She exits the room.

I start to dress.  Wait a minute.....how does she know what kibble tastes like?