Chocolate Lab – Page 28 – Gnawing the Bone

Fleegle’s Optimism Rubs Off

Published on January 18, 2015January 18, 2015 by Raud Kennedy5 Comments

The other day I noticed an odd effect from writing the Negotiating with Cookies series about Fleegle and his antics. When I read nonfiction books or follow the news, I often see it influencing my storylines a few weeks later, like in The Dog Buddha and Odoriferous Parfait, but I’ve never been aware of what I’ve written having an influence on how I see the world, only the opposite.

In my work as a trainer and walker, I talk a lot to the dogs I’m with. This has led me to talk to myself quite a bit, often in the imagined voices of Fleegle or Sadie, my two dogs. They’re typical of their retriever breeds, Labrador and Golden, happy, upbeat, eager for the next adventure. I aspire to be this way too, but it doesn’t come naturally.

The other day I was contemplating some activity or other and just as my usual thinking began to poo-poo the idea of doing it, I heard Fleegle’s voice, the one I hear when writing his stories, say, “Oh, that’s a good idea. Let’s do it.” It totally caught me by surprise, and even more so when my critical mind agreed that he was right.

Negotiating with Cookies – Super-sized

Published on January 16, 2015January 19, 2015 by Raud Kennedy5 Comments

I’m seated at my desk, testing out a new black pen on a story idea.

“What are you doing?” Fleegle asks as he ambles into the den.

“I’m writing a story about Super Fatty.”

“Who is Super Fatty? Is he an action hero like Superman?”

“He’s an American who believes if a meal can’t be super-sized it’s only an appetizer, and that all health problems can be solved with a pills advertized on television. So there’s no need for him to take care of himself, just indulge all his cravings.”

“No, I meant what are you doing putting that black stuff on that paper? It looks like tiny strands of syrup. What flavor is it? Is it licorice? Can I taste it? Put some on my nose.”

I tear the paper off my pad, frustrated with the negative tangent I’ve taken the story down. “I’ll do you one better.” I wad it up into a ball. “We can play fetch with it.” I toss it across the room.

“Licorice fetch,” he says and runs after it. When he returns and drops it in my lap, he asks, “Can we play burger fetch next?”

“Would that be regular or super-sized?”

“Tiny-sized fetch would be fine with me as long as it’s with burgers, really greasy burgers.”

Next: Negotiating with Cookies – Hunters

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Negotiating with Cookies – Sabotage

Published on January 15, 2015January 16, 2015 by Raud Kennedy4 Comments

I’m in the garage putting an old Triumph motorcycle back together. Fleegle comes in and gives it a sniff, then asks, “It smells like a car, but how come it only has two wheels instead of four and no seat for me?”

“It’s a motorcycle.”

“Like a bicycle with a motor?”

“Something like that.”

“So you figured out a way to make bicycles even more obnoxious?”

“I didn’t know bicycles annoyed you.”

“They have a tendency to fall over and attack the floor and anyone near them without provocation, and there’s no place for me to sit when you ride them. Now you’re making one that is the equivalent of riding a bicycle while blasting a gas powered leaf blower, and you know how I feel about leaf blowers.”

“The same as you do about lawn mowers.”

“Yes.” He puts his nose in the box holding a bunch of parts to the motorbike and comes out with a bolt in his mouth. “Is this part important?”

I took the bike apart years ago to paint the frame, so putting it back together from memory is like doing a jigsaw puzzle without the box cover to cheat from. All the bike parts are dingy and beat up, the bolt he holds is shiny and new and most likely left over from when I replaced the shocks on the car and tossed it in the nearest box.

“It’s very important,” I say. “It won’t run without it.”

“Good,” he says and heads out to the yard to bury it.

Next: Negotiating with Cookies – Super-sized

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Negotiating with Cookies – Osmosis

Published on January 14, 2015January 15, 2015 by Raud Kennedy4 Comments

After reading in bed for a while, I adjust my pillow and get ready to turn out the light, but first I slide the book I was reading under my pillow.

Curled up on the bed next to me, Fleegle asks, “Why are you putting that book under your pillow and not on top of the stack on the nightstand?”

Slightly embarrassed, I dodge answering. “You don’t miss a thing, do you?”

“Rarely.”

“You’re so observant.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I say and reach to turn out the light.

“I used to chew on books when I was a puppy.”

“You specialized in removing the covers.”

“And if you want me to sleep next to one, I want an answer, please.”

“Oh, alright. I don’t want to read the book because it’s so wordy. The author uses a paragraph where a sentence would do, but it has a few gems of wisdom I don’t want to miss, so I thought I’d try osmosis.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, the theory is that if you sleep on something then whatever knowledge it has magically transfers to your head while you sleep.”

“So from sleeping on the feathers in this comforter is why I know so much about birds?”

“Um, yes, that’s right.” I turn off the light. “Goodnight, Fleegle.”

“Goodnight, Raud, don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

“That’s not very comforting coming from you.”

He answers by scratching himself and shaking the bed, but then settles down. Moments later he gets up and repositions himself with his head resting on my forehead.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Well, I don’t want to listen to you all the time, but you do say the occasional gem.”

Next: Negotiating with Cookies – Sabotage

Previous: Negotiating with Cookies – Chips & Salsa

Negotiating with Cookies – Chips & Salsa

Published on January 13, 2015January 14, 2015 by Raud KennedyLeave a comment

While comfortably ensconced on the couch, I use the corn chip to shovel salsa into my mouth.

Fleegle supervises, sitting as near to me as he can without being me. “Raud, you’re going to get fat if you don’t share. Or should I say, fatter.”

I pause to look at him, the chip in my hand frozen between the tub of salsa and my mouth. “You have it all wrong, Fleegle. You’re going to get fatter if I do share. Think of me eating this chip as a favor to you. I’m saving you from yourself, from your Labrador food obsession.”

“I’ll drool to death and die of dehydration before I ever get fat. Between Buck’s calorie free biscuits and your selfishness, I’m wasting away to skin and bones.”

I pop the chip in my mouth. I few bits drop to the floor. “Look, Fleegle, chips,” I say, pointing at them.

He ignores them, his eyes on the bag. “Those are crumbs, and I’m not your floor-cleaner.”

“But I thought you liked crumbs.”

“I do, but if I leave them there maybe they’ll attract mice, and I can eat mice.”

“You wouldn’t?”

“Desperate measures for desperate times.”

I stand up and head for the kitchen utility closet.

“Where are you going?”

“To get the broom and dust pan.”

“But what about the mice?”

I pull a chip out of the bag and offer it to him. “Here, have one.”

He looks at it, not taking it until he gets it the way he wants. “With salsa too, please.”