Tag: short fiction

Negotiating with Cookies – Marked

Published on by Raud Kennedy2 Comments

While standing around at the dog park, a little black Chihuahua named Toro runs over to me and lifts his leg to pee on my pant leg. He’s too fast and I’m too slow and he gets me, then before I can shake my pant leg off Fleegle is at my side lifting his leg on me.

“Hey, what the @#$%&! Fleegle.”

“But Toro peed on you.”

“Yeah, so now it’s okay for you to pee on me too?” I shake my head, always trying to add a physical gesture to the words for him, kind of like saying it in two languages. “I don’t think so.”

“But everyone will think you belong to Toro.” He makes a move to lift his leg on me again. “You belong to me.”

I dodge his approach. “Then think of me as your bed. You don’t pee on your bed, do you?”

“I would if Toro peed on it. Stop moving, you need to be marked.”

“I’ve already been marked and once is enough.”

Fleegle pauses, looking up at me all doe-eyed. “Does that mean you’re going home with Toro?”

“Yes, and I’m leaving you here to live in the park.”

 

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Negotiating with Cookies – Let’s Play Catch

Published on by Raud Kennedy1 Comment

Fleegle is captivated watching a man talk to a woman companion at the dog park. “Look at that man talk while he eats. I can see him mash the raisins on his cookie between words. Boy, he’s losing a lot of food out of the side of his mouth. Let’s go stand by him.”

“No thanks. I was taught to chew my food with my mouth closed and only speak after I swallowed.”

“That’s very sensible of you, Raud, he’s only sharing his cookie in his own way. Instead of offering a piece of it to his friend, he’s spitting crumbs at her. Looks like a fun game. Will you spit crumbs at me?”

“No. That’s disgusting.”

“Raud, you need to loosen up and learn to laugh, especially when your mouth is full of food.”

“Like full of lima beans and broccoli?”

“Oh no, not broccoli, pizza, you could spit pepperoni slices at me. But that’s for later. You could start now with getting yourself a raisin cookie like that man.” His ears perk up as he glances over at him. “Ooo, did you see that? He just hit her in the forehead with a raisin. She needs to work on her catch. I totally would’ve gotten that.”

 

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Previous Negotiating with Cookies: More Chickie Puffs

Negotiating with Cookies – More Chickie Puffs

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Fleegle trots over to where I’m sitting at my desk and nose bumps my leg. “Raud, let’s go to the feed store.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, it’ll be fun.”

I stare at him, waiting for the full reason.

His ears go back. “Georgina is running low on Chickie Puffs.”

“No way. How can a three ounce chick eat her way through a five pound bag of Chickie Puffs in just two weeks?”

He avoids eye contact and says, “I’ve been teaching her to share.”

“Oh, have you now.”

“And Buck likes Chickie Puffs too.”

“Uh-huh, anyone else?”

“Well… You. You’ve been eating them every morning this week. I replaced some of your oatmeal with Chickie Puffs.”

“Replaced? You’ve been eating my oatmeal? Dry?”

“Yeah, you said horse ate oats and they have such long legs I thought your oatmeal would make me taller.” He looks down at his legs, then up at my face. “You enjoyed your Chickie Puffs this morning, didn’t you? Maybe we should get a ten pound bag this time.”

 

Next Negotiating with Cookies: Let’s Play Catch

Previous Negotiating with Cookies: The Spotted Pig

Negotiating with Cookies – The Spotted Pig

Published on by Raud Kennedy3 Comments

“What’s this place?” Fleegle asks as I park the car in front of a pub with a giant pig hanging over the entrance.

“The Spotted Pig. They have a dog friendly patio for lunch.”

“What’s dog friendly?”

“They allow dogs, like Home Depot.”

“Oh, so they have hammers for me to pee on too?”

“No. No peeing once we go inside. If you have to pee you can take care of your business on the parking strip.”

There was once grass on the parking strip, but the dog trade killed it. Fleegle gives the dirt a sniff, then says, “You know how you always complain about the bathrooms at gas stations? I’m good. I don’t need to pee.”

We go through the gate to the patio around back and take a seat at a small table, all of which have water bowls next to them. A waitress arrives and fills my water glass and Fleegle’s water bowl, then hands me a menu. As I look over the menu, Fleegle drains his water bowl.

The waitress returns and refills it. “Thirsty dog. I’ll be back to take your order in a minute.”

Fleegle drains it again, burps, then sees me perusing the menu and asks, “What are we having? Do they have pizza? I smell pepperoni.”

“You’re getting the raw special with broccoli, and I’m having the shepherd’s pie.”

Fleegle rolls back on his haunches and tilts his head to the side. “I get broccoli and you get pie?”

“Yes.”

“In what world is that fair?”

“We’re definitely not in Fleegle World.”

Fleegle slowly shakes his head. “That’s for sure. In Fleegle World I’d be doing the ordering and you’d be sniffing the parking strip.”

When the waitress returns, he listens to me order with anticipation, ever hopeful for pizza, but when he hears broccoli his ears go forward with a determined look, then when the waitress heads back inside, he follows her.

I clear my throat. “Where do you think you’re going?”

With a grumpy look over his shoulder, he keeps walking and says, “I’m going to find out where they keep their hammers?”

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Previous Negotiating with Cookies: Telekinesis

Negotiating with Cookies – Telekinesis

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Out in the backyard, I find a stick about two feet long and push one end into the lawn, then sit down cross-legged in front of it and begin staring at it.

Fleegle watches from his spot in the shade under the bamboo where he chews on a stick of his own. “Whatcha doing, Raud?”

“I had a dream last night where I could move things with my mind. I was a street performer and I made flags fly above the audience’s heads like magic carpets. The people loved it.”

“So you’re trying to move the stick by staring at it?”

I nod. “Yes, exactly.”

“Will we take a magic carpet to work instead of the car?”

“Maybe, if I can move this stick.”

“What you call a car, I call my kennel, my home away from home. A carpet isn’t going to give me the den-like feeling I like,” he says, gets up and grabs the stick out of the lawn. “You’re going to have to practice your mind powers with something else because every stick back here belongs to me, though I might part with one or two for the right price.”

“And what is the going cookie rate for a stick?”

 

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Previous Negotiating with Cookies: Reminders

Negotiating with Cookies – Reminders

Published on by Raud Kennedy1 Comment

While Fleegle and I sit on a park bench reading in the sun, a man with a cane takes a seat at the far end of the bench and starts reading a newspaper. Fleegle quietly gets up, goes over and sits next to him, but without paying him any attention. Anyone walking by would think Fleegle belonged to the man with the cane and not to me.

After a little while, Fleegle gets up and moves back next to me.

“What was that about?” I ask.

“I was just reminding you of what it was like before you got me. I bet you saw me sitting over there and went, boy, I wish I had a dog like that, so good looking and kind.”

I get up and move to the next park bench.

“What are you doing?” Fleegle asks.

“Just a reminder.”

Fleegle glances at the man with the cane, absorbed reading his newspaper. “I don’t think he’s going to wish he had human just like you. You’re not nearly as good looking or kind.”

 

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