While in the backyard immersed in one of my books on advaita and nonduality, something tickles the back of my neck. I swat at it like I would a mosquito and feel a small wet nose, a nose too small to be Fleegle’s.
“What are you doing, Franny?” I ask.
“I’m sniffing your brain for peanuts to check if what Biscuit Breath says is true.”
“And what have you discovered?”
“I’ve concluded you have a coconut for a brain.”
Fleegle looks up from his spot across the lawn. “That’s only his shampoo. It’s scented with coconuts to fool you into thinking he has a bigger brain. Sniff deeply and you’ll smell the peanut deep inside his noggin. But still, it’s an apt metaphor since coconuts are full of water. Even a walnut with its solid insides can outsmart a hollow coconut.”
Franny nudges the book in my lap. “Is that one about dogs too?”
Fleegle gets up and comes over. He sniffs the book. “I bet it’s about coconuts, and I bet it’s titled How To Be a Coconut and Appear Smarter Than You Are.”
I clear my throat to speak. “It’s about how everyone is everyone and there is no other. Franny, me, and even you, Fleegle, are all one and God is experiencing his creation through us as his creations.”
Fleegle yawns. “What I say? Coconuts. You and the coconut are definitely one and the same. God is experiencing the coconut through you.”
“So God is a boy dog?” Franny asks. “Did they neuter him too like all the other boy dogs at the park?”
I know when I’m outnumbered. I set my book down on the grass next to my chair and get up to go inside for more coffee. As I do, I glance over my shoulder and catch Fleegle about to lift his leg on my book. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m going to review your book.”
Franny follows me toward the house. “If God is neutered, what did they do with his boy bits?”
Dogs can ask the most embarrassing questions.