Tag: laugh

On a nighttime walk down to the park, Fleegle and I pass a picture window framing the family of five inside watching television.

Fleegle lifts his leg on their mailbox and says, “They look like people inside a television watching television. Do you thing they’re watching people on their television watch television too? What would people do without their televisions?”

Later, while we’re at the park, the street lights suddenly go out and there’s not a light on to be seen. It’s a power outage.

On our walk back home, we pass the house with the picture window again. Now in the darkened window all that can be seen are five faces illuminated like ghost from the glow of their cell phones.

Fleegle shakes his head. “You’ll never be without your televisions.”

 

Next Negotiating with Cookies: Monkeys and Manatees

Previous Negotiating with Cookies: Doodles

“What are you drawing, Raud?” Fleegle asks as he jumps up on the couch next to me and looks over my shoulder at the sketch pad in my lap. “That looks like a dog. Ooo, and he’s got a bone.”

“That’s right.”

“That bone looks pretty old and gnawed out. Maybe you should put some meat on it and give that dog something to sink his teeth in.”

I draw some meat on the ends of the bone sticking out of the dog’s mouth.

“I wish I could put meat on my bones as easy as that. Now you need to add some drool. A dog with a meaty bone like that would be drooling big time.”

I draw a strand of drool hanging from one side of the dog’s mouth.

“And a little puddle down by his paws. That dog looks like a heavy drooler to me.” He tilts his head to the side as he assesses the drawing. “Hey, that dog looks like me. Is that dog supposed to be me?”

“Yep.”

“Then add more meat to that bone because watching you draw me with my bone is making me really hungry.”

I glance over at him. He’s drooling and a puddle is forming by his paws.

“What’s this drawing for?” he asks.

“I’m working on a new business logo.”

“A new business? Are you going to sell drool? I didn’t know there was a market for that. I’ll be very successful.”

Next Negotiating with Cookies: Picture Window

Previous Negotiating with Cookies: Cackles

As I bag Fleegle’s poop at the dog park, Fleegle stares at a group of people standing on the other side of the grass field. “Why do people make so many sounds that mean nothing. Listen to that man’s empty cackles over there. It must hurt the ears of the woman he’s talking to. If I make a sound it’s because it means something. I whine when it’s time to eat because I’m hungry. I whine when we go to Hunter’s house because I’m excited to play. I whine when we go to Little Daisy’s because I love her. I whine when you leave me at home alone to remind you what an evil person you are for doing so.”

“The common thread being that you whine.”

“A good whine paired with the right facial expression is very effective.”

“Don’t leave out whining when I’m on the phone when I need to talk to someone besides you.”

“Oh, that’s not an attention seeking thing. I’m worried about you getting radiation sickness from talking on your cell phone too much. Your ear turns awful red when you use it.”

“It does?”

He nods. “And you rub that side of your head a lot after you hang up.”

“It does give me a headache sometimes.”

He glares again at the cackling man across the field. “Though that could be who you’re talking to.”

The cackling man starts up again laughing at something the woman next to him said.

“Why is that man pretending to laugh when fake laughter means nothing?” Fleegle asks.

“Maybe you should ask the dog park guru?”

“He’s out of town harvesting a grow.”

“A grow?”

“He’s a horticulturist.”

“Who specializes in marijuana?” I ask. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“I hear pot makes people want to eat a lot. You better stay away from that but I’ll have some. I love grass.”

The cackling man really lets one loose, like his dog park date just said the funniest thing ever said in the history of the world.

“Why does he do that?” Fleegle asks. “The louder it is the more its emptiness is revealed. Does he really think it’ll give him a chance to breed?”

“Do you think he’d have better luck if he sniffed her butt instead?”

But Fleegle isn’t listening. Little Daisy, the yellow Labrador, has arrived at the park and he’s run off to greet her. Sniff sniff.

Next Negotiating with Cookies: Doodles

Previous Negotiating with Cookies: Love Is…

Fleegle sits on the couch next to me, his back against the cushions, rear legs straight out, his head between them, grooming.

“Stop goobering yourself so loud, Fleegle, I’m trying to watch my show.”

“They say attention is love,” Fleegle says. “What you spend your time on is what you love, no matter what you say about it. You love television, even if you say it’s stupid, because you give it so much attention.”

“I do not. Who is this ‘they’?”

“Duane at the dog park. When he talks the people listening to him stare at him like they have a biscuit on their nose.”

“Duane the dog park guru? The guy who wears the same Grateful Dead t-shirt every time he’s there? Patchouli oil Duane?”

“Yes, that Duane. I figured if people were listening to him so intently I’d give him a listen too.”

“And?”

“As long as I’m up wind from the patchouli scent, he has some good things to say.”

“Such as attention is love?”

“And love is attention. If you complain all the time and it makes you unhappy thinking about all those complaints, then you must love being unhappy since you spend so much attention on complaints.”

He returns to goobering himself and I reach for the television remote to turn up the volume. “Well, based on your attention we know what you love,” I say.

He glances up from between his legs at the news on the television. “And you love talking heads that tell depressing stories. How could I not love myself more than that? Us Labradors aren’t stupid.”

 

Next Negotiating with Cookies: Cackles

Previous Negotiating with Cookies: Free Range