Plastilina dog ready to be covered in Oomoo 30.
I didn’t have quite enough Oomoo 30 to cover the dog so I had to improvise to raise the level in the box.
Fleegle and Franny sit inside the house watching me through the screen door as I plant shrubs in what used to be the front lawn.
As I dig the hole for the last one, Fleegle says, “Raud, let us out. We can help you dig your holes,” Fleegle says.
Franny scratches at the screen door. “And fill them too.”
“We can even do both at the same time,” Fleegle adds.
I lean against my shovel. “We tried that, and then you saw the neighbor’s cat across the street and went for a chase.”
“He taunted me. He called me slow poke. How could I not chase him?”
Franny wags her tail. “I didn’t chase the cat, I’m a good girl, I was chasing the slow poke.”
Fleegle gives her a look and grunts his dissatisfaction. “Please, Raud, let us out. I need to mark all of those new shrubs as mine before the other dogs in the neighborhood do.”
“So you want me to let you out so you can pee on my new plants?”
“It’s fertilizer, Raud. They need it to grow and thrive.”
I snort my derision at that. “The lawn in the backyard shows otherwise.”
“But Raud, you need supervision. You’re doing it all wrong.”
Franny looks at Fleegle. “You mean there’s a right and wrong to digging a hole?”
“Of course not. It’s just about the digging, but he doesn’t know that.”
I put my hand on my hip and give the two of them a hard stare. “I do have ears, you know, and though my hearing may not be as sharp as the two of yours, I can still hear you over here just fine. You need to learn to whisper if you’re going to talk about someone behind their back.”
Fleegle stands up and his ears go back. “Speaking of which, you better look behind you.”
Franny paws at the screen door. “It’s the gnome, Raud.”
“I’m not falling for that.”
“But he’s carrying a sharp stick,” Fleegle says.
“Ouch!” I shout and dance away from the source of the sharp pain in my calf. “Bloody wasp. Why sting me? I did nothing to you.”
“Bloody gnome is more like it,” Franny says.
There’s no gnome, only a wasp buzzing me. I head inside to wait for it to find trouble somewhere else.
Fleegle moves aside as I open the screen door. “If you dug up my yard it wouldn’t bother me, but I like digging. The gnome apparently doesn’t.”
Franny slowly shakes her head. “Nah, it’s not the digging that set him off, it’s taking his truck out for a spin that pissed him off. He must really identify with that truck, I mean, look at him. He’s so small, even smaller than me, and the truck is so huge. It even has an extra step just to climb into it.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “A compensating gnome? Now I’ve heard it all, Franny the Freudian.” I close the screen door behind me. “Let me know when the wasp is gone.”
“You can’t still be thinking about thinking?” Fleegle says.
I rub my temples with the heels of my palms. “I am but I’m stumped. I might need your help deciding what breed we should get.”
Fleegle sits down and cocks his head to the side. “So all of your thinking about thinking has led you to conclude you need someone else to do your thinking for you?”
“Raud, it takes a brave man to admit his limitations. I’m proud of you.”
“Um, thanks, I guess.”
Fleegle wags his tail. “If you answer this one simple question you’ll know exactly what to do.”
“Okay, what’s the question?”
“Am I a good dog?”
“You’re the best dog ever.”
“Then let’s drive down to Eugene and visit my breeder, Suzie, and pick out a puppy. I’ll even do the choosing, or do you need to think about that?”
“No, you can choose. You’re the dog expert.”
“Then she’ll be blond.”
“That’s right, she, but you can think on that while I pick her out.”
“And I suppose you have a name for her already?”
“I do. Fifi, which stands for Friend of Fleegle.”
“Still trying to think of what breed to get, huh?” Fleegle says.
“Yeah, how about an Australian Shepherd?” I say.
“Have you ever seen an Aussie take a nap?”
“Don’t you find that odd? I mean, in our daily drives around town we see lots of Labradors taking it easy in their yards all the time, napping on the front porch, napping in the sun on the front lawn.”
“Or napping in the bamboo like you.”
“Exactly, but never an Aussie. They’re always up and moving about, like they’re herding flies. Don’t underestimate the importance of a napping dog, Raud, because if your new buddy from Australia isn’t napping, neither are you, and you do love your naps.”
“Hmm… You have a point.” I scratch my head. “What about a Border Collie?”
“I’ll ask you again, have you ever seen a Border Collie take a nap? Same answer and throw in a lot of staring. They really love to stare. Have you ever tried to take a nap while someone is staring at you?”