Tag: talking dogs

Chapter 6 – Ham & Cheese To Go

Published on by Raud KennedyLeave a comment

I’m standing in front of the open fridge checking what there is to eat when I hear Fleegle behind me. He could be no where to be seen but at the sound of the fridge door opening, he magically materializes out of thin air. “Whatcha doing, Raud?”

“I’m thinking about fixing something to eat.”

“Oh boy, what am I having?”

“Not you, me.”

“Didn’t you learn to share as a kid?”

Franny drags a stick inside from the yard. “Do all people think have to about things so much before doing them? Or is it just you?”

“This is nothing,” Fleegle says. “At least he’s thinking about something and not just thinking about thinking.”

“Okay, I’ve decided,” I say.

Fleegle sits next to Franny and says, “Wait for it.”

“Yes, I’m going to make a sandwich.”

Fleegle’s tail sweeps the floor behind. “He’s a terrible sandwich maker. He does it all backwards. He puts the mayonnaise on the bread instead of the bread in the mayonnaise.”

Franny spits out a chunk of wood from her stick. “What’s a sandwich?” she asks.

“A sandwich is an awesome way to eat mayonnaise,” he says and thumps his tail against the floor.

Franny looks at Fleegle. “What’s mayonnaise?”

Fleegle shakes his head. “I’ve no idea.”

“But you eat it?”

“Of course.”

“So you eat things even when you don’t know what they are?”

“I’m a Labrador.”

“So am I but every time I start chewing on something that smells tasty, Raud pulls it out of my mouth and shoves that pink rubber thing in my face.”

“That’s the puppy Kong. Impossible to eat, but you can eat what Raud puts inside it.”

“What’s he put inside it?” she asks.

Fleegle watches me lay the cold cuts on the cutting board and get the jar of mayo from the fridge. “Well, if it were up to me, I’d put a few slices of ham in there, along with some provolone cheese, then slather it in mayonnaise.”

Next chapter – Sandwich Making Supervisors

Previous chapter – In Training

First chapter – The Puppy

Chapter 5 – In Training

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As Fleegle walks over to where I’m sitting in the backyard, I close the book in my lap and say, “Well, Fleegle, I just finished reading a book on the afterlife by a guy who travels there in out of body experiences.”

“Really? I just finished sniffing Franny’s pee on that rock over there.”

“Not interested, eh?”

“Oh, I’m interested alright. Her pee tells me she’s been getting more treats than me, and some have been hot dogs, the cheap greasy kind I love.”

“I meant in hearing about the afterlife?”

“If you ever find your higher-self I’m sure he’ll be real interested in talking to you about that sort of stuff to your heart’s content, but I’d rather discuss pee. Pee never lies.”

“Franny is getting more treats than you because she’s in training.”

He tilts his head to the side. “In training for what? I bet it’s some sort of hot dog eating contest and if it is you’re betting on the wrong dog for that. I can eat a lot of hot dogs, you watch me, way more than her. A little bowl of kibble makes her belly drag on the ground. No capacity. A single bun will fill her up.”

Franny looks up from the stick she’s been chewing on. “What about the before-life? Have you read a book on that too? Is it some sort of trilogy? Before, present and afterlife? I want to hear about the before part because I’d like to know where I came from. I distinctly remember being able to fly, but now I can barely get this fat belly of mine off the ground when I walk, let alone fly.”

Fleegle eyes Franny’s stick. “You’re confusing flying with the ride the stork gave you to deliver you to Suzie’s house, our breeder.”

Franny sees Fleegle eyeballing her stick. “Stork rides and tales of the afterlife, I’m going to need something more than a stick to chew on to get used to the two of you. Where are the shoes at? A real stinky one will get me through this.”

Next chapter – Ham & Cheese To Go

Previous chapter – Bedtime, Or Not

First chapter – The Puppy

Chapter 4 – Bedtime, Or Not

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I finish brushing my teeth, then climb under the bed’s covers. Fleegle is curled up on his pillow next to mine and Franny sits at the end of the bed mouthing the old rope toy she’s found. She stops chewing on it to watch me get comfortable and warm. It’s a cold night and I turned the heat off an hour ago.

“Whatcha doing?” she asks.

“Going to bed to sleep.”

“For how long?”

“Until morning.”

She stand up. “Do I get a biscuit if I pee on the bed while you’re sleeping?”

“No.”

“What if I wake you up and show you where I peed? Do I get one then?”

“Pee only gets you biscuits when you do it outside.”

The way she’s standing makes her look like she’s thinking of squatting. “That’s not fair,” she says. “I saw you give yourself a biscuit after you peed inside. You peed in your water bowl then went into the kitchen ad gave yourself a little round black biscuit.”

Fleegle lifts his head from his pillow. “She’s got you there. I saw it too. You had an Oreo biscuit. It is kind of unfair, Raud.”

“You too, eh?” I say to him.

Franny wiggles her butt and looks at Fleegle. “It seems to me he’s asking us to live by higher standards than he’s willing to live by himself. What’s this called again?”

“Housetraining.”

“So I’m being housetrained by someone who isn’t? Where’s that shoe? I need to chew.”

I tighten the comforter under my chin, finally getting warm. “It’s not time to chew. It’s time to sleep.”

Franny looks at me, her eyes gleaming bright in the light from the lamp on the nightstand. “No it’s not,” she says as she squats. “It’s time to pee.”

Next chapter – In Training

Previous chapter – What’s In A Name?

First chapter – The Puppy

Chapter 3 – What’s In A Name?

Published on by Raud Kennedy1 Comment

While the three of us are sitting outside in the backyard trying to come up with a name for the puppy, she asks, “Why do I need a name? What is it?”

“It’s what people call you when they want to get your attention,” I say.

“Maybe I don’t want to give my attention to any people. They’ll just grab me when I squat.”

“They also use your name when they want to tell someone about you,” Fleegle says.

“Oh, I get it, like when I tell you, food breath, that we should steal the biscuit man’s biscuits and cut out the middleman.”

“Um… I guess so,” Fleegle says. “But I don’t know why you’d want to do that.”

“Before you choose a name, I’d like to make an observation,” I say.

The puppy looks up at me and tilts her head to the side. “The biscuit man speaks, I still can’t get over that.”

“What is it, Raud? Observe away,” Fleegle says, glancing skyward. “Just as long as it’s not about your higher self.”

“Well, I’ve noticed that people and animals often become like their names. Over time they take on whatever qualities are associated with their names. A friendly name often leads to a friendly personality and a mean name often leads to a meanie.”

It’s Fleegle’s turn to tilt his head at me. “And you named me after the handlebars on your fat bike because you wanted me to be like them? How so? Because if you want me to be all shiny and curvy you’re going to have to feed me a lot more fish oil and donuts.” He tilts his head to the other side. “Are there fish oil donuts?”

“You can’t ride a bicycle without handlebars,” I say. “And aren’t you always saying I’d get lost the moment I stepped out the door without you?”

“Being able to steer does make people happy. Look at all those people on the bus who don’t get to steer. They rarely look happy. They’d be a lot happier with dogs to steer them around and show them all the good spots to pee.”

The puppy barks in frustration. “But what does all that mean?”

“It means that we’re not going to name you after Lizzie Boren or the Queen of Hearts.”

“Or Luna because that’ll be short for lunatic,” Fleegle says. “But what about George?”

“Your chicken, Georgia, that is now a rooster, is named George,” I say. “Besides, George is a boy’s name.”

“But what if like my chicken the puppy turns into a boy in a few weeks? This way we’ve got it covered.”

“Hedging your bets, eh? I think you’re safe in that department this time.”

The puppy gets up and waddles across the lawn toward the bamboo. “I’m not George, food breath. You can be George if you want. I’ll call you food breath George.”

“But I’m Fleegle.”

“I think I’ll choose my own name,” she says as she slips into the bamboo out of sight.

When she emerges, she asks, “You say you become your name?”

I nod. “That’s the theory.”

“Then my name is going to be Franny.”

“Ooo, I like that,” Fleegle says. “It goes well with George, Franny-George.”

“So Franny it is, Franny.”

“But why Franny?” Fleegle asks.

She sits down again. “Because I want to live to be an old lady and smell like flowers all the time.”

Fleegle wags his tail. “I know where there’s some bird poop that smells like flowers. Do you want to go roll in it with me?”

Next chapter – Bedtime, Or Not

Previous chapter – Fleegle’s Help Arrives

First chapter – The Puppy

Chapter 2 – Fleegle’s Help Arrives

Published on by Raud Kennedy2 Comments

As I’m rinsing dishes in the kitchen sink, out of the corner of my eye I see the puppy squat to pee. I drop the plate with a loud thunk, spin around, sweep the puppy up into my arms and rush her outside into the backyard, where I plop her down in the middle of the lawn.

“Here, this is where you go pee,” I say, pointing at the lawn. “Not on my kitchen floor.”

Fleegle ambles out into the backyard, following the excitement. He starts sniffing the grass near the puppy, her rump now parked firmly on the ground as she stares up at me with an annoyed look in her eyes.

“Ooo, over here,” Fleegle says. “Here’s a good spot. Pee right on top of this weed.”

The puppy looks over at Fleegle. “Who is this that’s looming over me and why does he grab me every time I squat?”

“That’s Raud, my pet human, but you can call him the Biscuit Man.”

“Does he pick you up and carry you around every time you need to pee? It sure isn’t very comfortable having him put all that pressure on my bladder when he lifts me up.”

“No, I’m far too big for him to pick up. I’m as big as Timber Jack and his mate.”

“Who’s Timber Jack.”

“A dire wolf who lives in the woods at the end of the street.”

I clear my throat. “I’m standing right here, you know. Timber Jack is only a coyote, and I can still pick you up.” I reach down and scoop up Fleegle, all 85 pounds of him.

The puppy chirps a bark. “He must think you have to pee.”

Fleegle squirms out of my arms. “Not in front of my friend, please. You’re embarrassing me.”

“Oh, alright, but you’re still a big baby to me, no matter how grown up you are.”

Fleegle turns his back to me and pretends I’m not there.

The puppy cocks her head at me. “He speaks. How’s he do that?”

“I taught him to. He even makes sense some of the time, unless he starts going on about meditation and contacting his higher self, then you should just start watching the sky in case something falls out of it.”

“Higher self? What’s that?”

“Exactly. Makes no sense at all,” Fleegle says. “If it weren’t for me, he’d get lost the moment he went out the front the door.”

The puppy looks up at me. “Why is he staring at me like that? He better not think I’m something for him to eat. I have to pee but his staring is freaking me out too much to go. Does he stare at you when you have to pee?”

“I can hear you just fine, you know,” I say to the puppy. “I’m waiting for you to pee.”

The puppy looks at Fleegle. “Who’s he talking to? Did he just say he has to pee too?”

Fleegle jerks his chin at the back of the yard. “See those bamboo plants over there? No one can watch you pee in there.”

“Ah, so you need to hide when you go pee. Like behind that big couch in the living room. I left a present back there.” The puppy ambles into the bamboo and out of sight.

Moments later when she emerges, I say good girl in a cooing voice and stick a treat in front of her snout.

She sniffs it. “What’s this? Smells good.”

Fleegle thumps his tail against the ground where he’s sitting. “That’s why he’s called the Biscuit Man. It’s like magic. I’ll be walking along and thinking about how nice it would be to have a biscuit right about now and I’ll look up at him and there one is, in his hand in front of my mouth. It’s almost like he came trained that way. He’s the best human I’ve ever had.”

The puppy gobbles up the biscuit. “That was good.”

Fleegle thumps his tail some more. “Here’s the good part. He’ll give you a biscuit every time you pee outside.”

“No kidding? What about if I pee inside?”

“Nah, I could never quite get him trained well enough to do that.”

“Maybe you didn’t try hard enough,” the puppy says.

“I tried everything. Raud just isn’t that smart. You can only do so much with the material you’re given. I mean, seriously, he still poops in his water bowl.”

“Gross, one of my litter mates did that. He was a dirty puppy,” the puppy says. “Maybe I can help you train your dirty puppy.”

“I’ll take any help I can get. He’s a lot of work and it takes dedication. You let one thing slide and the next thing you know, he’s no longer living in your house but you’re living in his,” Fleegle says, glancing at me over his shoulder.

“Let’s start now. You distract him while I go inside and poop behind that big couch.”

“Ah, but if you do that, he won’t give you a biscuit.”

“Oh, so he gives biscuits for poop, too?” she asks. “If I’d known they were worth something, I’d have been saving them.”

“Just wait until he starts following you around with the baggies at the park.”

Feeling outnumbered, I loudly clear my throat again for some attention. “Raud’s higher self is going inside to polish the dog bowls and measure kibble portions.”

“And clean behind the couch,” Fleegle adds.

“Yes, that too.”

Next chapter – What’s In A Name?

First chapter – The Puppy

Chapter 1 – The Puppy

Published on by Raud Kennedy3 Comments

At the dog show on the Vancouver fairgrounds, I say goodbye to Suzie, Fleegle’s and the new puppy’s breeder, and carry the puppy back to the car.

“Hey, you don’t smell like my mommy. You smell weird,” the puppy says. “Where are you taking me? Put me down.”

We pass a porta-potty in the parking lot just as a man steps out of it hiking up his belt. The hard plastic door smacks closed behind him and the puppy sniffs the air as she gives him the stink eye.

“That man just pooped in his crate,” she says. Continue reading “Chapter 1 – The Puppy” →