I hold the car door open. “Fleegle, get in the car.”

“Busy,” he says and continues sniffing a patch of weeds on the parking strip.

“We need to get home.”

“Still busy. Lots of smells on these weeds.”

“I’ll leave you here.”

“Ha, no you won’t,” he says. “You can’t find your way home without me.”

“I’ll leave you here to live in the park all by yourself,” I say.

“I love the park and I make friends easy.”

“It’ll rain and get cold.”

“I like the rain. I’ve been bred for water. I have webbed toes. And I have thick oily fur that keeps me warm.”

I put my hands on my hips, exasperated. I feel like swearing, but refrain. Last thing I need is for Fleegle to learn to swear. He’d like that. It would be f-this and f-that and, Raud, where’s my f-ing kibble? A change of tack is needed. “It’s getting close to dinner time. We have cold pizza in the fridge. Do you think you’ll find some of that in the park?”

He lifts his leg over the weeds and gives them a splash, then hops in the car and claims shotgun. “Hurry up, Raud. I’ve got pizza crust waiting on me.”

 

Next: Negotiating with Cookies #24 – Taxes

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Start at the beginning: Negotiating with Cookies #1 – Stinky Butt