Fleegle trots over to where I’m sitting at my desk and nose bumps my leg. “Raud, let’s go to the feed store.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, it’ll be fun.”

I stare at him, waiting for the full reason.

His ears go back. “Georgina is running low on Chickie Puffs.”

“No way. How can a three ounce chick eat her way through a five pound bag of Chickie Puffs in just two weeks?”

He avoids eye contact and says, “I’ve been teaching her to share.”

“Oh, have you now.”

“And Buck likes Chickie Puffs too.”

“Uh-huh, anyone else?”

“Well… You. You’ve been eating them every morning this week. I replaced some of your oatmeal with Chickie Puffs.”

“Replaced? You’ve been eating my oatmeal? Dry?”

“Yeah, you said horse ate oats and they have such long legs I thought your oatmeal would make me taller.” He looks down at his legs, then up at my face. “You enjoyed your Chickie Puffs this morning, didn’t you? Maybe we should get a ten pound bag this time.”

 

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