Negotiating with Cookies – How About a Pug, Fleegle?

“So have you finished thinking about what breed to get so we can get on with it?” Fleegle asks.

“You mean, what kind of puppy we should get?” I ask.

“A dog puppy, of course. It’s not like there are cat puppies.”

“No, I mean what breed of puppy should we get. I’m thinking about a pug.”

“Well, you keep on thinking about thinking on that one,” Fleegle says.

“Why? Don’t you like pugs?”

“I love pugs, but have you ever seen one clean its butt?”

“Um, no.”

“Exactly. I’m not sure they can reach it with their round little bodies and big bellies, and I don’t want to live with a dog nicknamed Stinky Butt, and you know how highly I value good grooming.”

“So that’s what you call all that loud goobering on yourself you do at 3AM.”

“Did I mention they snore? I’m a mouse in comparison.”

 

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Negotiating with Cookies – Talking About Talking

While sitting in the backyard on a sunny afternoon, Fleegle drops his slobber covered tennis ball in my lap for the umpteenth time. I pick up the ball with two fingers and toss it to him. “Fleegle, you know how you’ve been asking me about getting a puppy?”

He catches the ball but spits it out. “Oh boy, are we getting one today? Let’s go,” he says, his front paws bouncing on the ground.

“Well, I’ve decided it might be time to start to actually give the idea some real thought,” I say calmly.

He stops bouncing. “Huh? As opposed to the fake thought you already started giving it?”

“Um, yes.”

“So we’re not going today to get a puppy, but today you’re going to start thinking about getting a puppy? This is like when the guys on the car radio start talking about what they’re going to talk about. I thought you hated that.”

“I do. It drives me crazy. They spend more time talking about what they’re going to talk about than about it itself. It’s totally boring. Like they tell me all about the weather report they’re going to give at the top of the hour and in the time they take to tell me that, they could’ve just given me the weather report.”

Fleegle nose bumps the ball toward me. “So you want to start thinking about what you’re going to do instead of just doing it?”

“This is different.”

“Maybe to someone who is brainwashed by listening all day to people talk about what they’re going to talk about, but not to someone who does things when he wants to do them and doesn’t need to think about it first, let alone talk about it first.”

I pick up the ball and toss it. He catches it in the air. “This coming from a dog that would jump out a second story window after a ball.”

He spits the ball out in my lap. “I would not.”

“There’s a reason we live in a one story house, and that’s because I thought about it first.”

“But what if there was a swimming pool below that second story window. Think of all the fun to be had there.”

I toss the ball for Fleegle to catch, but he doesn’t move and it bounces on the ground behind him and rolls to a stop. “Raud, I think it’s time I give it some real thought about going and retrieving that tennis ball, but first let’s sit down and discuss it, let’s talk about what we’re going to say about the ball and the fetching of the ball.”

 

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Negotiating with Cookies – Fleegle Cures Laziness

While I’m lazing in bed late Saturday morning, Fleegle ambles into the bedroom and over to my side of the bed. “Raud, there’s a poop in the living room.”

My eyes pop open. I’m wide awake now. I deal with enough poop outside that the thought of it being inside too sets my mind alight like a 4th of July sparkler. “What do you mean there’s a poop in the living room? Did you poop in the living room? Are you ill?”

“No, I didn’t poop in the living room.”

“Why would you do that? You’re dog door is open and the yard has lots of prime locations for private pooping for poop shy dogs like you.”

Fleegle shakes his head. “It’s not my poop.”

I push the comforter aside and sit up. “It’s not? Well it certainly isn’t mine if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Are you going to get up and take a look? It could be staining the rug?”

“It’s on the rug? You’re damn right I’m getting up to take a look.” I throw my feet over the side of the bed. “Who’s been pooping on my rug?”

Lickety-split, I’m up, down the hall and in the living room in. I scan the rug, looking for the offensive waste product, and there it is, the size of a pine cone sitting under the coffee table. I move in for a closer look, and as I do I realize that’s what it is, a pine cone. How could Fleegle miss that? I look around, expecting him to be standing behind me, but he’s nowhere to be seen. I pick up the cone and carry it through the kitchen to the patio door, where I see Fleegle sitting next to the storage bin that holds his kibble.

I open the patio door and toss the pine cone out into the bamboo. “It wasn’t poop, Fleegle. It was a pine cone.”

“Oh, really? It sure had me fooled, but now that you’re up, do you think you could feed me my breakfast?”

 

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Negotiating with Cookies – Ghost Writer

As I’m hunched over my desk working on a story, and my bad pasture, Fleegle appears from underneath my desk and rests his head on my knee.

“Whatcha working on, Raud?” he asks.

“Chapter one of a children’s story.”

“Ooo, what’s it called?”

“I don’t know yet, but the working title for chapter one is, ‘The Watermelon Has Landed’.”

“I can eat a lot of watermelon. You should write a story for dogs. I mean, you don’t have kids but you do have me.”

“And what should it be about?” I ask.

“Well, chapter one would be about a guy who forgot to feed his dog lunch.”

I glance at my watch. Time has really whipped by. “And chapter two? What’s it about?”

“Chapter two is about how the guy made it up to his dog by giving him a double portion of kibble.”

I push my chair away from my desk. “And chapter three is about how this fat Labrador—I assume your protagonist is a Labrador—has to skip dinner because he ate so much for lunch and doesn’t want to end up going to fat camp.”

Fleegle’s ears perk up. “Fat camp? This is the first time I’ve heard of this place. Can I go there?”

I raise my eyebrows at him. “You want to go to fat camp?”

“Yeah, don’t you? If everyone there is fat, they must serve up some good sized portions. I bet they use giant ladles, unlike that tiny half cup measuring scoop you use to dole out my kibble.”

 

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Negotiating with Cookies – Shop ‘Till You Drop

While on a walk in town among all the holiday shoppers, Fleegle says, “There sure are a lot of people carrying packages.”

“That’s because it’s the Christmas shopping season and people are filling the emotional void they feel with buying stuff for one another.”

“Like when you give me food to fill the void in my belly when I’m hungry?”

“Yes, just like that.”

Fleegle thinks on this a moment as we walk some more, then asks, “And what do they do later when they’re hungry again?”

“They return what they were given and buy something else.”

“And when they’ve finished their ‘business’ with that and are hungry again?”

“They surf eBay for impulse buys.”

“People sure do spend a lot of time on their shopping. What do they do with all the stuff?”

“If they’re lucky, they have an attic, and then after a year or so they take a carload of donations to Goodwill.”

“At least when I eat and do my ‘business’ it’s biodegradable.”

I scratch my head. “I wonder if old stuff at Goodwill is just a slower form of biodegrading.”

 

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