“Are you going to eat all of that?” Fleegle asks as I bite into my sandwich.
Franny drools at his side. “Yea, that’s a lot of sandwich for one dog.”
“I’m not a dog,” I slur around my mouthful of sandwich.
“You sure smell like one,” Franny says.
“And I wonder why that is,” I say. “Living with two shedders.”
“We’re getting off topic,” Fleegle says, also drooling. “Back to the subject at hand. Are you sure you’re going to eat all of that sandwich?”
I nod as I chew.
Fleegle shakes his head with disappointment. “Didn’t they teach you to share when you were little?”
Franny cocks her head to the side. “He used to be little?”
“He claims he was once long ago.”
“If he was little we could just take that sandwich away from him,” she says. “Teach him to share the canine way.”
Fleegle tilts his head at her. “But that’s not how I taught you to share.”
“It isn’t? I take your sticks from you all of the time. Isn’t that you sharing?”
“I drop the sticks to stop you from biting my back leg.”
“Oh, and I thought you were sharing.”