On a particularly lazy Sunday, we huddle in the house waiting out a summer storm. James makes a killer grilled cheese sandwich, and he’s been begged into submission and is shuffling around the kitchen making our lunch. Pans clang, burners ignite. Out comes the bread loaf, cheese slices and butter. The commotion draws Doodle’s attention, and he becomes the instant helper by standing right behind James while he works.
Helper= trip hazard
MJ snores on the couch, indifferent to the activity in the next room.
James peels open the Kraft American Cheese Singles slice. MJ bolts into the kitchen. There’s something about that plastic noise that has her unsettled.
“Hey Miss, what’s up? We’re making lunch,” James chats.
Zo shifts his settled position into the middle of the kitchen, and MJ begins duckling-stalking behind James as he moves from counter to cook-top. She steps on/over Doodle. Ears pert, eyes open, sniffing the air.
Without thinking about it, James takes a small corner of cheese and offers it to Zo. MJ erupts in her Brontosaurus whine. How dare she be overlooked and unoffered. She screams for her fair share.
“Ok, Miss. Hold on.” He tears a piece of cheese. “Sit.”
From the other room, I can hear her butt hit hard on the floor. She slurps the cheese down.
“Good girl! Stay.” James walks a few steps away. She’s twitchy but working very hard to stay put. “COME!”
From the couch, I hear the jingles of the furbaby stampede. “Sit.” Two dog rumps thwap the ground.
Ladies and Gentlemen: we have a winner.
This Girl will do anything for Kraft singles. It’s her Klondike bar; her holy grail. Within a week, she’s mastering her cues for a tiny nibble of cheese.
We replenish our stock, but this time with the white singles slices (which I prefer). MJ won’t take them. She turns her snoot up and sulks away. Back to the store we go.
Only the yellow slices for this princess.