So my dog got brainy...

         Let me just explain something before I begin. My dog is called Frank. I like that name, don't judge. He is getting on a bit at thirteen years old, which is pretty ancient for a dog. In his old age, Frank has been getting a bit cranky. I think he needs to go see the vet or something...

         I woke up and went down for breakfast this morning, like any other day. There was Frank, lying on his bed, looking like he was thoroughly bored. Same old Frank.
         "What are you looking at?" Frank said.
         I stared at the dog, completely at a loss for words.
         "Stop staring at me. It's very rude, you know," the dog continued, "and close that mouth of yours."
         "Wow. Did...did you just talk?" I asked Frank.
         "Nope, I'm completely silent. No words leaving these lips, no way," Frank said sarcastically.
         I closed my mouth slowly and walked out of the room. Rubbing my eyes roughly, I turned around and walked back in and looked at Frank.
         "Yep, still here bozo. You only left for like, three seconds. Believe me, I counted," he said gruffly.
         I decided I was going nuts and went over to the cupboard to make myself a bowl of cereal. I walked over to the table, which was right next to the dog's bed and sat down.
         Halfway through eating my bowl of cornflakes, Frank piped up again.
         "Hey, you. Dangly. I got a bone to pick with you," Frank said.
         "Are you still talking to me?" I said, looking at the dog.
         "No. I'm talking to the hallucinogenic ghost standing next to you. Of course I'm talking to you, idiot! Anyway, I was going to say that I need to straighten a few things out before I get too old. Firstly, why do you insist on thinking that I'm a brain-dead moron? Walkies, and all that rubbish, seriously? Who are you kidding around here? Secondly, why do you collect my flipping poo? Would you like it if every time you went to the bog, I went round and scooped your leavings up in a black plastic bag for my private collection? No. So why do it to me? It's very embarrassing when I'm out walking you-"
         "Wait, you out walking me?" I said, very confused.
         "Yes, that is what I said. Glad you're keeping up. Thirdly, I point blank refuse to be forced to eat that rubbish you two-legged numbskulls call dog food. Have you ever tried it? It tastes disgusting! I only eat it because I realised that I would starve if I didn't go along with your psychotic ways." Frank stopped his rant there and lay back down on his bed.
         "Okay..." I muttered to myself and finished my bowl of cornflakes as fast as humanly possible.

         Later, on a walk in the park, Frank did a dump. A huge one. It stank of skunks and dog poo...obviously. There was a 200 pound fine for anyone who left a doggie doo-doo in the park and there was another dog owner walking the other way. Frank sat next to his newly created Mt. Turd and looked at me sternly. We continued on down the path, and the other dog owner rushed to catch up with me.
         "I'm not sure if you noticed, but your dog has done a number two. If you wouldn't mind, could you please pick it up? Thank you," she said.
         "I'm sorry, it offends my dog to collect his waste. Good day," I said, nodding to the woman before striding off with Frank.
         As we walked away, Frank stopped me and we walked back to the dumbstruck woman.
Frank went up on his hind legs and said to her,
         "I hope my friend hasn't soured your outing at all but, I must insist that he leaves my leavings alone. Good bye."
         We then left the woman to faint, whilst her dog caught her mid-fall.
         "Good day," said the dog.
         "Good day," Frank replied.