Tag: labrador retriever

While sitting in the car at a red light, Fleegle and I watch a dog standing motionless in his front yard. “Why doesn’t that dog leave his yard?” Fleegle asks. “There’s no fence and lots to smell in the neighbor’s yard. I can smell a fresh one from here.”

“That’s gross.”

“What? It’s true. Don’t be such a prude.”

“This is a long light. And I’m really hungry,” I say. “I wish lights like these had carhop service.”

“What’s carhop service?”

“I’ll show you sometime. You’ll love it.”

The dog still hasn’t moved. If I hadn’t seen his head move I’d think he was a piece of lawn art. Fleegle barks at him. “Oh, don’t do that,” I say. “It’s not his fault. Do you see the little white flags that run along the edge of the lawn around the house?”

“Yeah.”

“See the little black box on his collar?”

“Yeah.”

“If he gets too close to the flags, the black box will give him an electric shock. It’s called an invisible fence.”

“Like the time I chewed on the cord for the television?”

“Yeah, like that.”

Fleegle cocks his head to the side, confused. “Why would he wear a collar that would do that to him?”

“His family put it on him.”

“Don’t they love him?”

“I’m sure they do,” I say.

“So what is it then? They’re so heavily into the S&M that they need to drag the dog into it too?”

Next: Negotiating with Cookies #42 – Carhop Service

Previous: Negotiating with Cookies #40 – Fleegle Hears a h’Hoo

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

While camping in the woods, Fleegle nose bumps me awake in our tent. I flick on the flashlight and point it at him, the fur on his head is bunched up in wrinkles and his ears are on alert, listening.

“Did you hear that?” he asks.

I rub my eyes. “Hear what?”

“You didn’t hear it?”

“No, what?”

“It must be very quiet in your world with your hearing being so weak.”

“With you around? Not really,” I say. “This thing you heard, what did it sound like?”

“Like an owl farting.”

“I didn’t know they could.”

“I didn’t either. Why do you think I’m so troubled? All won’t be right in the woods if it’s hoo-h’HOO-toot-toot.”

I flick off the flashlight. “Fleegle, go back to sleep.”

Next: Negotiating with Cookies #41 – Invisible Love

Previous: Negotiating with Cookies #39 – Fleegle Brut

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

Fleegle drinks from the bird fountain as I doodle on my notepad in the sun, thinking up another post for Fleegle’s ongoing adventures and imagining what he would say if he really could talk. I stop doodling and write down: Fleegle rolls onto his back in the grass and slurs around the gooey tennis ball in his mouth, “I wuv my ball.”

As I write, Fleegle sidles up to me, eyeballs what I’m writing, then rubs his wet snout on the page. “What kind of sappy stuff is that?” he asks as he sits back on his haunches and starts scratching at the side of his head with his back paw.

My mouth drops open at what I’m hearing. He really can talk.

He continues, “I should be saying something like: Get off me, fleas, before I crush you like this ball.”

I continue staring and wonder if that mushroom soup I had for lunch was made of “special” mushrooms picked by Grateful Dead fans in the woods.

“What’s wrong, Raud? You didn’t think I could read, huh? That chicken scratch of yours is pretty much undecipherable, could be ancient cuneiform if I didn’t know better, but I’ve had plenty of practice cracking that code. I like to read what I shred. Unless it’s TV Guide, that I just shred.”

Next: Negotiating with Cookies #37 – Fleegle Negotiates

Previous: Negotiating with Cookies #35 – Cheating

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