“How many surveys can you fill out an hour?” Casey asked, poised over a calculator.
Linus looked up from the bone he was chewing, still holding the slimy rawhide tight between his paws. “Depends. Do I have to read the questions first?”
“I don’t see why,” the gray dog responded. “At least not all of them. I get the feeling that most humans don’t read as much as they say they do.”
“Why are we filling out Internet surveys again?”
“Hey, beans!” Linus exclaimed. “I like beans!”
He clicked through a few more questions. “What are we doing with these beans?”
“You’ll see.” Casey stared intently at the screen. “You’ll see.”
It took several months, of course, but eventually their Internet gift cards started to make their way into the online account Casey had created for this purpose. It was a little harder to find an Amazon distributor who sold canned beans. Eventually, however, she got lucky with an Ebay sale — and free shipping too!
“Yippie!” Linus exclaimed when the beans arrived. He lifted a leg and prepared to pee on the cans.
“Nope,” Casey stopped him, “beans are not for peeing.”
“But I’m marking them!” he protested. “As mine!”
“Not in the living room you’re not,” Casey admonished. “Besides, beans aren’t for peeing; they’re for eating.”
Linus’s ears perked up. “I like eating! Only… how to we open the cans?”
“With a can opener.”
“How do we work a can opener?” Linus pressed, whining in worry. “We have no thumbs.”
Casey remained confident and assured. “We have kitties. Kitty feet are made of can openers.”
“They will want to help us? Are you sure? Even with all the farting?”
Casey sat and scratched an ear, considering. “Don’t tell them about the farting.”