Negotiating with Cookies #25 – Christmas Card

From behind the tripod and camera I say to Fleegle in his new red elf hat, “Try not to move or it will fall off.”

“This stupid elf hat isn’t going anywhere, Raud. You’ve tied it on nice and tight. I could run to the moon and back and it would still be on my head. Where’s your hat? Why am I the one who’s always got to look stupid?”

“My hat got in the way of looking through the viewfinder.”

“This hat is getting in the way of me being a dog.”

“Smile at the camera.”

“Why? That’s like asking me to smile at a rock, and do I smile at rocks? No. Well, I might if it had been scent marked by someone I like. Maybe if you pee on the camera I’ll feel like smiling at it.”

“You want to look grumpy for the Christmas card?”

“It’s sunny and hot, where’s the snow? why are we doing this now?”

I put my hands on my hips. “Because it’ll take you that long to smile at the camera.”

“You know how I feel about things on top of my head.” He stands up and does a full body shake where his skin goes one way and everything else goes the other. The elf hat comes loose and slides down to the side of his face. He swats it off with his paw and starts out of the room.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“I don’t know. Outside to do dog things that don’t involve little elf hats.” He pauses to think, and then snatches up the hat in his teeth. “On second thought, I know exactly what I’m going to do.” He heads for his dog door to the backyard.

“If you bury it, you’ll be the only elf wearing a muddy hat.”

“Ha, that’s if you find it.”

 

Next: Negotiating with Cookies #26 – Piercings

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Negotiating with Cookies #21 – Self Help

Fleegle and I are in the den, being couch potatoes watching television.

“This can really help you with your self-image,” the guest on the couch says to the television talk show host.

Fleegle stops chewing on his ball and snorts, “What are these people talking about?”

“It’s almost over.”

“Self-image? What’s that? And why does it need help? Is it in trouble?” he asks. “Did it poop in the house?”

“A self-image is how you see yourself.”

“So that dog who lives in the mirror is my self-image? He doesn’t look like he needs any help. He’s always got a tennis ball in his mouth. What more could he ask for?”

“No, it’s how you see yourself inside your head.”

“But I can’t see inside my head. Can you?” He rolls his eyes, trying to look at the back of his head. “Do I have a hole back there where you can see inside?” He shoves the back of his head at me. “Take a look. What’s my self-image doing? He better not be sitting on his backside on a fat couch watching nonsense on television.”

 

Next: Negotiating with Cookies #22 – A Walk with Fleegle

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Negotiating with Cookies #20 – Cheese for Fleegle

Fleegle sits next to me on the couch, watching my every bite. “You know, the proper way to eat pizza is with your hands, not on a plate with a fork,” he says.

“And how would you know this?”

He jerks his nose at the television screen. “That’s how everyone on your television does it. Maybe you missed that lesson. You think I just sleep, but sometimes I watch it too.”

“Eating it by hand when it’s hot is a quick way to burn the roof of my mouth and ruin the whole pizza experience.”

“How’s that Parmesan taste?” Drool dangles from his lower lip. “Aren’t you glad you put on extra like I told you to?”

“Most of it has fallen off onto the plate.”

He licks his lips. The drool breaks free.  “Yes, I’ve noticed. You’re lucky to have such a good plate cleaner handy.”

 

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Negotiating with Cookies #14 – Clothes

In my bedroom, I pull off my shirt and put on a different one.

Fleegle sits on the bed watching. “Why that shirt? What was wrong with the first one?”

“I don’t feel like wearing it.”

“But you feel like wearing that one, and those pants?”

“What’s wrong with these pants?”

He snorts. “Nothing.”

Now he’s got me second guessing my pants.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” he says. “I’m just trying to understand what it means to wear clothes based on how you feel. If something good happens that makes you feel really happy, do you have to go home and change your clothes?”

“You could if you wanted. What do you do when you’re happy?”

“I’m always happy, that’s why I only need one suit of fur.”

 

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Bacon

"Are you awake yet?"
“Are you awake yet?”

When Hank fell asleep to the sound of Goober, his dog, snoring next to him, he dreamed Goober had become a man and he was now his dog. Goober was a particularly good dog owner because he still remembered what it was like to be a dog even though he was now a man. Hank looked up to him like he was the greatest being on earth, especially since he was feeding him the most delicious snacks he’d ever tasted, even tastier than the ribs at his favorite barbeque joint.

When Hank woke from the dream, Goober was laying next to him, waiting for his eyes to open, and when they did, his tail went thump-thump against the bedspread. It always made Hank smile at how Goober would wag his tail at the smallest things, but this morning it made him take him for a run along the river where there were countless stinky things for Goober to stick his snout in, and afterward he planned to cook up a big breakfast of bacon and eggs for both of them. Goober would love that. Continue reading “Bacon”

Riding a Blackwing

Ray’s box of Palomino Blackwing pencils arrived that morning. Sleek with extendable erasers, they were the epitome of sexy. At least for a pencil, he thought. The yellow ones in grade school certainly weren’t. When he thought of those what came to mind were all the teeth marks in the ones he borrowed from his classmates, freshly chewed and still damp.

The internet ad for the Blackwing claimed it was the best pencil ever made, firm & smooth was its tagline, and Ray enjoyed the feel of a good writing instrument. Not all pencils were alike. Some wrote quietly, leaving you happily unaware of them. Others scratched across the page as if they were serenading you with the Sex Pistols. He quickly demoted those to the wood shop to mark boards. Continue reading “Riding a Blackwing”