Tag: Dogs

Negotiating with Cookies #28 – Poultry Blend

Published on by Raud Kennedy1 Comment

We pull into the parking lot of the Ponderosa Meat Market. Fleegle sniffs the air blowing through the five inch gap at the top of his window. “What is this place? It’s making me excited and I don’t know why.”

I smile. “You’re going to try something new for dinner.”

“I am? Something other than kibble?” He looks around the parking lot and sniffs the air again. “I don’t see the take and bake pizza place.”

“No, not pizza. Stay here, and no chewing on the steering wheel because you’re excited.” I get out of the car, then add through the open window, “Or pulling the padding out of my seat cushion.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a big boy now. I don’t do that anymore.”

A few minutes later I return carrying a case of Ponderosa Poultry Blend. I put it in the back and hop in front. Fleegle jumps in back, his tail wagging furiously, and licks the box all over like it’s smothered in gravy. “This smells incredible. What’s in the box?” He grabs one of its corners in his mouth and tries to tear it open.

“Raw chicken frames, necks, backs, all ground together and frozen in two pound packets.”

Eyes glossy, mouth drooling, he pulls at the edge of a plastic packet wrapper sticking out of one of the handle holes on the side of the box.

“Fleegle, leave it and get in front.”

“No, I’m gong to eat this.”

“Plastic wrapper and all? You remember the last time you ate plastic?”

He pauses in his efforts to pull the packet through the handle hole. “Yes, it was a yogurt container I chewed up in the backyard. The plastic made me throw up the next day.”

“In multiple places.”

 

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Negotiating with Cookies #27 – Kibble Run

Published on by Raud Kennedy2 Comments

Fleegle and I park in front of the pet supply store.

“I’m coming with,” Fleegle announces.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” I take hold of his leash and we hop out of the car.

The store entrance is lined with dog toys from squeaky balls to fluffy pink bunnies.

Fleegle stops and stares at a fuzzy toy puppy on the top shelf. “Look, Raud, the stork has been here,” he says, referring to the story I told him about where babies come from, that storks bring them.

“Maybe a toy stork.”

Fleegle sniffs in its direction. “Oh, he’s good. Had me fooled, almost as good as you.”

“How do you mean?”

“Sometimes when you’re watching your television you don’t move for so long that I think you might be a stuffed toy. That’s when I bump you in the back of your head with my nose, just to check that you’re real.”

“A cold wet nose.”

“When you’re bald it will be even colder.”

I make a sour face at him. “If I go bald I’ll wear a hat to stay warm.”

“Bald or not, you’re the same Raud to me.”

We hit the food aisle and I pull a bag of kibble off the shelf and Fleegle sniffs it.

“Does it smell fresh?” I ask.

He looks up at me. “Define fresh.”

I look at the sell by date. It’s a long ways out. “As you would say, Fleegle, you could run to the moon and back and it would still be fresh.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Like I said, define fresh.”

 

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Negotiating with Cookies #26 – Piercings

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While at the park, the ever observant Fleegle asks, “How does that man blow smoke out of his mouth?”

“By inhaling it first from his cigarette.”

“Does he get cookies for doing it?”

“No.”

“What about those metal tags hanging from his ears. Did his vet do that?”

“No, that’s jewelry. He probably did that himself or had help from a friend.”

“What kind of friend sticks metal through your ears?”

“It’s considered cool,” I say.

“Cool is a cold nose in your bum.”

“It’s hip.”

He nose bumps my hip. “Hip is where you wobble.”

Exasperated, I say, “Some people just like it.”

“They like dog tags skewered through their ears and inhale smoke? No way. People can’t be that stupid.”

“Yes way, and don’t be so judgmental.”

“You mean they like pain and trouble breathing? And what’s wrong with being judgmental? It saves me from hanging out with people who like pain.”

I see a small movement out of the corner of my eye. “Look, Fleegle, squirrel.”

And he’s off, but soon returns after treeing the squirrel.

I look at him and ask, “And there’s no pain involved for what you have planned for that squirrel?”

“Have I ever caught one?”

 

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Negotiating with Cookies # 23 – Bribery

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I hold the car door open. “Fleegle, get in the car.”

“Busy,” he says and continues sniffing a patch of weeds on the parking strip.

“We need to get home.”

“Still busy. Lots of smells on these weeds.”

“I’ll leave you here.”

“Ha, no you won’t,” he says. “You can’t find your way home without me.”

“I’ll leave you here to live in the park all by yourself,” I say.

“I love the park and I make friends easy.”

“It’ll rain and get cold.”

“I like the rain. I’ve been bred for water. I have webbed toes. And I have thick oily fur that keeps me warm.”

I put my hands on my hips, exasperated. I feel like swearing, but refrain. Last thing I need is for Fleegle to learn to swear. He’d like that. It would be f-this and f-that and, Raud, where’s my f-ing kibble? A change of tack is needed. “It’s getting close to dinner time. We have cold pizza in the fridge. Do you think you’ll find some of that in the park?”

He lifts his leg over the weeds and gives them a splash, then hops in the car and claims shotgun. “Hurry up, Raud. I’ve got pizza crust waiting on me.”

 

Next: Negotiating with Cookies #24 – Taxes

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Negotiating with Cookies #22 – A Walk with Fleegle

Published on by Raud Kennedy3 Comments

While on a walk, Fleegle trotting along at my side, we pass a man walking his dog. The dog pulls against a too short of a leash while the man stares at his phone with his head down and ear buds plugged into his ears.

“Why does that man have a dog?” Fleegle asks. “Is he walking his dog or his phone? Why doesn’t he put his television in a shopping cart and take it for a walk?”

“I hate to tell you this Fleegle, but he’s watching television on his phone.”

“No kidding? You can do that? Can you do that on your phone?”

“I’ve got an old phone,” I say.

“Well if you get a new one you’re going to wish you kept your old one.”

“Why?”

But Fleegle ignores my question as he sniffs at the base of a fire hydrant.

Continuing our walk, we pass a little boy and his mother sitting on a park bench licking ice cream cones.

“They live with a dog,” Fleegle says.

“How do you know? Do they smell like dog?”

“No, like cat, actually. But you saw how they licked at their ice cream.”

We pick up the pace and hurry passed a man with a very loud leaf blower. “Does that man live with a dog?” I ask.

Fleegle sniffs at the dust filled air. “Nah, he lives alone with his leaf blower. What dog would have him with all that racket? Just like his neighbor who lives alone with his lawn mower.”

We amble on some more when Fleegle says, “It’s good you have me along to answer all your questions. You must find life pretty challenging having more questions than answers.”

I drop his leash and point at a tree. “Look, Fleegle, squirrel.”

He darts to the base of the tree, circling and sniffing and looking all over. “Oh boy, a squirrel. Where is it? Where’s the squirrel?”

But there is no squirrel, just an outmaneuvered human lamely reasserting himself through trickery.

 

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Negotiating with Cookies #21 – Self Help

Published on by Raud Kennedy1 Comment

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.”

 

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