Tag: dog story

Negotiating with Cookies – The Crate

Published on by Raud Kennedy4 Comments

I hold the crate door open for Fleegle.

He stands his ground and stares at me. “No. I’m not going in my crate.”

“Why not?” I ask.

“Because.”

“Because what?”

“How come it’s my crate? Why isn’t it yours?”

I look at the crate, which is small for me, then back at him. “Well, have you ever seen me get in it?”

“If you get in I’ll get in.”

“I’m sure you would. That would be very cozy.”

“I like cozy.”

“I know you do,” I say and toss a dog cookie in the back of the crate.

“Oh boy, a cookie,” he says as he runs in after it. His tail thumps against the inside of the crate as the cookie crunches inside his mouth.

I put a Kong stuffed with frozen peanut butter in behind him and close the door. He hears the latch close and turns around to face the door.

“Cat butt! I fell for it again, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did.”

Next: Negotiating with Cookies #3 – The Remote

Start at the beginning: Negotiating with Cookies #1 – Stinky Butt

Fallout

Published on by Raud Kennedy6 Comments

Sadie woke from her nap, stretched her front legs, fanning her toes on her paws as she did, and rose. Dog, I sure needed that nap, she thought. I love naps, naps and balls. She looked inside the small plastic crate next to her bed where she kept the new pet her parents gave her for her birthday.

“Wakey-wakey.” She nudged the crate door with her nose. “Did you sleep well? I sure did. I bet you need to go outside to piddle and make poopies.”

She opened the crate door and out walked a little man about ten inches tall, naked except for a piece of frayed cloth wrapped around his waist. Continue reading “Fallout” →

Riding a Blackwing

Published on by Raud Kennedy1 Comment

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” →

The Trickster

Published on by Raud Kennedy7 Comments

the tricksterThe Death Valley tour bus parked on a viewpoint off Badwater Road, and about half the members braved the heat to get off the bus and take in the view of the dry lake bed of Badwater Basin.

A little girl in pigtails, pointed at a moving speck far across the distant lake bed. “Daddy, what’s that?”

Her dad squinted against the brightness of the white sand, at first not seeing anything, but after a moment spotted it. “I dunno, honey.” Continue reading “The Trickster” →

The Racist Pea

Published on by Raud Kennedy5 Comments

Raud Kennedy - the racist peaSometimes when I’m on my walks with my two-legger and I see a Chihuahua, a little voice in my head will say, “There goes Pedro, stinking of beans.” It’s not my voice. It’s someone else’s because I like beans. Beans don’t stink, they smell good. Beans are food and I love food. All food. Even Costco biscuits. So it’s not even something I would think, let alone say.

Then I’ll see a Rottweiler and the little voice will say, “There goes Tyson, looking for a fight.” I’ve met plenty of friendly Rotties so I know it’s not me saying that, even if I’m the only one who hears it inside my head. Sometimes when I hear these words, I wonder if I’m sharing my head with a little racist dog, like a twin who never completely formed, except as maybe a pea-sized part of my brain. Continue reading “The Racist Pea” →

Bushy Heads of Fur

Published on by Raud Kennedy5 Comments

Henry was a door-to-door salesman with a shock of bushy white hair. He’d grown up in the suburbs, knew suburbanites well and what they wanted. They’d embrace any device that made their lives easier so they could spend more time on the couch living their lives by remote. More and more of them lived by themselves. Chores no longer needed to be shared, they were automated, and what was left, like mowing the lawn, was hired out. With all this independence came loneliness, but like a blank spot in the garden was filled with a gnome, a void in a suburbanites life was filled with a dog, a little furry person to keep them company. Continue reading “Bushy Heads of Fur” →