Zoey is sitting at the kitchen table in the RV, her tax form spread out in front of her.
Zoey: (Whistling “Dixie”) “Oh I wish I were in the Land o’ Cotton, Old times there are not forgotten, Look away, look away. look away, Dixie land . . .”
Sam: “You’re sounding chipper, Zoey. Are your taxes almost done?
Zoey: “I’ve got my name filled in!”
Sam: “Well, that’s a start, but you’d better pick up the pace a bit; taxes returns are due in a few days.”
Zoey: “Do I have a middle initial?”
Sam: “No middle initial.”
Zoey: “Ooh, ooh, do I have an address?”
Sam: “Yes, it’s . . .”
Zoey: “Wait, wait, don’t tell me. I know, it’s ‘Big white RV.’ “
Sam: “Ah, I don’t think that’s enough information for the IRS, Zoey.”
Zoey: “ Why? Is the IRS going to come to my house? Are they going to take away my dogbones? Why do they want my dogbones? Why do they, give a hoot about me? I’m just a dog; why do I have to do a tax return, anyway? I’m just a DOG, I’m just A DOG, I’M JUST A D. . .”
Sam: (patting Zoey’s head) “ZOEY! Calm down, girl. Nobody’s coming to your house. No one’s going to take away your dogbones.
Zoey: (whimpering) “Why ME? Why do I have to make a tax return?”
Sam: “Zoey, listen, listen to me girl and I’ll explain. Did you work last year?
Zoey: “Yeah, I took care of Ellee, I guarded the RV, I rode shotgun in the Truck, I licked the floor clean in the kitchen, and, and, under the table . . .”
Sam: “Zoey, the IRS doesn’t care about those things. They only care about income you generate, money you are paid. Like the money you made for modeling. The IRS wants some of that money.”
Zoey: “MY MONEY?? They want MY MONEY?”
Sam: “Yup.”
Zoey: What about you? Did you make money last year?”
Sam: “Yes, I did.”
Zoey: “Who made more, you or me?”
Sam: “Wellllllll . . . you did.”
Zoey: (smiling) “Go get me some cookies.”
