Category: Negotiating with Cookies

Negotiating with Cookies – Sniff-Sniff

Published on by Raud Kennedy1 Comment

I’m sitting in the den with a sketchpad drawing cartoon dog faces when Fleegle comes in and starts sniffing my legs and knees and staring at me with his head tilted to the side.

“Why do you keep sniffing me and looking at me like that?” I asks.

“You are Raud, aren’t you?”

“Huh? Of course I am. That’s a silly question.”

“You don’t smell like him.”

“Well, I did change my brand of soap this morning.”

“I’m not some dumb puppy that can’t figure that out. You’re back to using Ivory again. It’s not your soap. You smell, well… alien.”

“Oh alright, I’ll tell you. When I went out last night, I ate garlic pizza.”

Fleegle plops backwards onto his haunches. “You had pizza without me? Who ate all the crust? Did you give it to some other dog? Now I know you’re not Raud. He would never do that to me. You’re an alien for sure,” he says and struts out of the den.

“Where are you going?”

“To the kitchen to check on the alien egg thingy. Maybe it hatched and you’re the result. Pod-Raud.”

 

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Negotiating with Cookies – Chowder

Published on by Raud Kennedy1 Comment

As I pour hot water into my tea mug, Fleegle drops his rawhide chew flip into his water bowl.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He stares at the rawhide soaking in the water. “Letting it steep for 3 to 5 minutes.”

“Like my tea.”

“Oh, but much better than your tea. That’s like comparing thin broth to chowder.”

A little while later I’m in the den with my mug of tea on the table next to my chair, when Fleegle walks in and drops his gooey half chewed rawhide into my mug.

He looks at me and wags his tail. “Here, give it a try. You’ll love it.”

I look at him nonplussed.

“Ah, poor Raud, you must be on a diet,” he says and scoops his rawhide out of my mug with his tongue. “Mmm, I taste honey.”

 

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Negotiating with Cookies – The Force

Published on by Raud Kennedy4 Comments

I set my book down in my lap. “Fleegle, why are you staring at me.”

“It’s time to eat, Raud.”

“No, it’s not. It’s not even eleven yet. The earliest you get lunch is eleven-thirty.”

Fleegle isn’t convinced. He rests his head on the floor, but continues to stare at me. I go back to reading, but every time I glance over the top of my book, he’s still staring and I start having trouble remaining focused on my book.

“Fleegle, stop staring at me.”

He lifts his head from the floor. “These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.” He rests his head on his paws.

“Your Jedi dog tricks aren’t going to work on me.”

“You can go about your business.”

“I will.” I get up to leave and Fleegle follows me into the kitchen where I find myself scooping an extra large portion of kibble into his bowl.

“Now move along,” he says and starts to eat.

“Yes, Master Fleegle.”

 

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Negotiating with Cookies – Eggs Benedict

Published on by Raud Kennedy1 Comment

I finish pushing the reel mower around the backyard lawn and go inside for a glass of water to wash down the pollen where I find Fleegle in the kitchen sitting in front of the refrigerator with the door wide open and a strange blue glow on his face.

“What the cat, Fleegle? Close the fridge door. You’re letting all the cold air out.”

He doesn’t budge. “But then I won’t be able to see it.”

“See what? The egg?”

“No, the ham.” He wags his tail. “Are you ready for your sandwich yet?’

“It’s only 10:30 and I had a big bowl of oatmeal for breakfast.”

“I know, it was tasty.”

I step over to close the fridge door, but stop. “Does it look bigger to you?”

“The ham?”

“No, the egg.”

“Maybe, but the ham definitely looks smaller. If you were smart you’d go buy a new light bulb for the fridge and give that crazy egg thingy to Timber Jack. I bet his jaws can crush anything.”

“You’re probably right, but we need to see this through. Don’t you want to know what it is?”

“Not as much as I want to avoid another encounter with crazy space chickens.”

“Oh Fleegle, you worry too much.

  *   *   *

In the middle of the night I’m woken by a cold wet nose in my face. “Raud, wake up. It’s happening.”

“What’s happening?”

“Your reckoning. Listen.”

I hear the muffled sounds of something thrashing about coming from the direction of the kitchen.

Fleegle jumps off the bed. “You better bring that bat you keep by the bed.”

I glance at it as I slip my feet into my slippers, then grab it and follow the noise to the kitchen.

Fleegle cocks his ears. “It’s coming from inside the fridge.”

As I open the fridge door, the sound stops, and all looks normal inside, bathed in a pink glow of a Key West sunset.

“It’s gone,” Fleegle says.

“No, it’s not,” I say and point at the egg.

“Not the egg, the ham.” His hackles go up and he growls. “And the egg looks definitely bigger.”

I flick on the kitchen light. “And so does your belly.”

 

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Negotiating with Cookies – The Egg

Published on by Raud Kennedy1 Comment

While I’m brewing a cup of tea in the kitchen, Fleegle comes in from the patio with something muddy in his mouth.

“Why don’t you leave that gooky ball outside?”

He mouths around it, “It’s not a ball, Raud, it’s something else.”

“What then?”

He sets it on the floor. “I don’t know. I found it in the earth.”

It’s smaller than one of his tennis balls and shaped like an egg. I pick it up and rinse it off in the sink. “It’s blue, the sky blue of July.” I weigh it in my hand. “It’s too heavy to be an egg.”

“If it were an egg I would’ve eaten it.”

“Don’t let George hear you say that.”

“He’s mad at me.”

“Did you eat all his Chickie Puffs again?”

“You try eating just one.”

“That’s a dangerous advertizing meme you’re repeating started by the potato chip companies.” I look down at the egg thingy in my hand, which is now pink, the rose pink of sunset.

Fleegle tilts his head to the side. “I thought you said it was blue.”

I look at him. “It was blue, now it’s pink.”

“No, now it’s yellow.”

“The yellow of a ripe lemon.”

“Yuck, I hate lemons. Give it to me and I’ll go put it back in the ground.”

“But you like lemon scones.”

“Scones are biscuits.”

“Why don’t you show me where you found it.”

I follow Fleegle into the backyard toward the fence at the property line and into the bamboo to a hole he’s dug.

“I found it in that hole,” he says.

“What made you dig there?”

“It smelled funny, like that egg thingy smells funny. Let’s bury it and leave it alone.”

“But what if it’s an egg left by those crazy space chickens?”

“The ones Timber Jack and his date ate? The Master Race of chickendom?”

“Yeah, those chickens.”

“Then drop it in a food bowl and put it out with the garbage cans on garbage day. Let Timber Jack finish what he started. We can watch from the picture window, nice and safe on the living room couch.”

In the dark of the bamboo the egg thingy gives off a lot of light. “I’ve got a better idea. The fridge bulb burnt out this morning, let’s use this instead.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“You’ve been watching too much Star Wars.”

 

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Negotiating with Cookies – Crumbs

Published on by Raud Kennedy1 Comment

The sound of Fleegle howling in the backyard gets me up on my feet and outside. “What’s all the howling about, Fleegle?”

“Excuse me, but I’m singing a song to the neighborhood.”

“Sorry.” I clear my throat. “You have a very nice singing voice.”

“I’m the Sinatra of the howled ballad. When I sing, the girl dogs throw their collars at me.”

“I’m sure they do. What were you singing about just now?”

“I was singing one of the canine classics. It doesn’t translate well into human speak because it’s so emotive, but it’s a song about how much I love the universe and the tiny speck where I live.”

“Our house?”

“No, our planet. But if you want, I can sing you a song about our house.” He widens his rear legs, taking up good stance for howling. “This song starts out about how much I love the squirrels in the yard and works its way inside the house to my love of the hunt for crumbs on the kitchen floor.”

“Am I in this song?”

“Of course you are. You’re referred to as the Crumb Maker, a very noble position.”

And the howling begins.

 

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