“Raud, if you could go anywhere in a blink of an eye, where would you go?” Fleegle asks.
“Could I blink myself back? Or would I have to take the bus back?”
“You could blink your way back.”
“Then I’d go to the pyramids in Egypt. I’ve always wanted to see them. What about you?”
“Petco for a squeaky ball.”
I grab my car keys off my desk. “We don’t need genie powers to blink us there. Come on, let’s go.”
Next: Negotiating with Cookies – Fleegle’s Conspiracy
Previous: Negotiating with Cookies – Buck
“Fleegle, what does Buck from across the street look like?” I ask.
“He’s big, bigger than me, and very furry. He could clog the bathtub drain just by walking passed it. Why? I thought you’d seen him around.”
“Well, I was talking to the neighbors across the street, and they said they didn’t have a dog. They used to have a dog named Buck, but he got loose from their yard through a hole under the fence and got hit by a car.”
“Well that explains why the biscuits he’s been trading me for Roca taste so heavenly but never fill me up.”
“I think you’ve been seeing a ghost.”
“Hmm… You’ve never seen him then?”
“No,” I say.
“Don’t worry about it. I see a lot of things you don’t see.”
“Apparently.” I pat his back. “Did you know he was a ghost?”
“It had crossed my mind, but it didn’t matter. I mean, dead or alive, he’s still Buck, and I like Buck. He’s my friend.”
Next: Negotiating with Cookies – The Pyramids of Petco
Previous: Negotiating with Cookies – Truffles
“Knock knock, how many people does it take to screw in a light bulb?” Fleegle asks.
“I don’t know, how many?” I say.
“Just one, but it takes a hundred to make the television commercial that tells you people which one to buy.”
“Ha-ha, very funny, Fleegle. How many dogs does it take to eat a biscuit?”
“Just one, me.”
“Nope, none. We’re all out.”
Fleegle grunts. “How many lazy couch potatoes does it take to go to the store to buy more?”
“None. I’m not moving. Potatoes can’t walk.”
He turns to his dog door. “I’ll get a couple sticks to poke in you for legs. Thank goodness for my sandbox and Buck’s trade in biscuits.”
Next: Negotiating with Cookies – Truffles
Previous: Negotiating with Cookies – Fleegle Goes into Business
“Raud, we should get a cat.”
“Why?”
“Because Buck from across the street says he’ll trade me one of his biscuits for every piece of kitty Roca I can come up with.”
“You don’t need to live with a cat for that. A sandbox in the backyard will get you what you want.”
“Are you sure?”
“I know of what I speak. When I was a little boy I had a sandbox and the neighbor’s cats were in it as much as I was and they weren’t there to play.”
“It’s hard to imagine you being little.”
“”Wow, Fleegle, you’ll be all grown up and earning your own kibble, a dog with a booming trade business, and I won’t have to buy you anymore kibble.”
Next: Negotiating with Cookies – Knock Knock
Previous: Negotiating with Cookies – The True Purpose for Pockets
Fleegle drops his gooey tennis ball in my lap. “I bet you wish you were covered in fur like me, then you wouldn’t have to wear clothes. Think of all the time that would free up. No more doing laundry, no more choosing what to wear. That alone would free up gobs of time. No more trying on two or three shirts to find the one you’re in the mood for. You’d wake up in the morning and be good to go, just like me, and we would have that much more time to play fetch.”
“But then I wouldn’t have any pockets to carry cookies in.”
Fleegle takes a step back. “I really like those cargo shorts on you. Those big pockets make you look super intelligent. Maybe you should get a few more pairs and wear them all the time. If they come in brown we could be twins. Or go one better, get me a pair and I could stuff those big pockets full of pizza for you.”
Next: Negotiating with Cookies – Fleegle Goes into Business
Previous: Negotiating with Cookies – Another Reason for the Ball
Fleegle and I are in the backyard. I’m reading. He’s sniffing around the grass.
“Raud, I think I can see your aura,” he says, his head cocked to the side as he stares at me.
“That’s just the sun setting behind me.”
“The sunset is red, your aura is blue. Are you feeling blue?” he asks.
“Maybe a little, but I don’t know if aura color is connected to one’s mood. What if my aura was pink? What mood would that be?”
“That would be the aura of someone in the mood for some strawberry yogurt. It’s pink.”
“Then wouldn’t blue mean it was time for some blueberries?”
“I don’t know, Raud, are you hungry for blueberries?”
“Now that you mention it, blueberries with vanilla yogurt sounds pretty tasty right now and it’s almost time for lunch.”
“So that’s what it means to be blue,” he says. “I like that better than being sad.”
“Can you see your own aura?” I ask.
“Yes, it’s red. It’s the red of a rare steak. After you eat your yogurt, can we barbecue for lunch?”
“Are you sure it’s not the red of an apple or a raspberry?”
“No. Steak, barbecue steak. Fire up those briquettes, Raud.”
Next: Negotiating with Cookies – Another Reason for the Ball
Previous: Negotiating with Cookies – The Dog Buddha
Gnawing the Bone 