Tag: talking dogs

Negotiating with Cookies # 24 – Taxes

Published on by Raud Kennedy1 Comment

I’m doing my taxes at my desk when Fleegle nose bumps my leg. “Pet me.”

I give him a lame pat on the head. “I’m kind of busy.”

“So what? Pet me.”

I scratch his back. “Go find something to do. I need to finish this.”

“No you don’t. Pet me.”

“It’s my taxes. I have to get them in the mail by midnight or they’ll be late.”

“Plenty of time. Pet me.”

“Seriously, Fleegle, I have to do this.”

He leaves the room but returns a moment later with his ball and drops it in my lap on top of my tax form. “Here’s my ball. Isn’t it nice? Look how gooey I’ve made it. How do you feel now? The ball makes everything better, even taxes.”

“And gooey. Do you think the IRS computers can read through dog drool?” The ball rolls across the page onto the floor. “Those might be deductible. You go through enough of them.”

“No, they’re not, but they’re tax exempt because I find them at the park and they’re free.”

 

Next: Negotiating with Cookies #25 – Christmas Card

Previous: Negotiating with Cookies #23 – Bribery

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

Negotiating with Cookies # 23 – Bribery

Published on by Raud KennedyLeave a comment

I hold the car door open. “Fleegle, get in the car.”

“Busy,” he says and continues sniffing a patch of weeds on the parking strip.

“We need to get home.”

“Still busy. Lots of smells on these weeds.”

“I’ll leave you here.”

“Ha, no you won’t,” he says. “You can’t find your way home without me.”

“I’ll leave you here to live in the park all by yourself,” I say.

“I love the park and I make friends easy.”

“It’ll rain and get cold.”

“I like the rain. I’ve been bred for water. I have webbed toes. And I have thick oily fur that keeps me warm.”

I put my hands on my hips, exasperated. I feel like swearing, but refrain. Last thing I need is for Fleegle to learn to swear. He’d like that. It would be f-this and f-that and, Raud, where’s my f-ing kibble? A change of tack is needed. “It’s getting close to dinner time. We have cold pizza in the fridge. Do you think you’ll find some of that in the park?”

He lifts his leg over the weeds and gives them a splash, then hops in the car and claims shotgun. “Hurry up, Raud. I’ve got pizza crust waiting on me.”

 

Next: Negotiating with Cookies #24 – Taxes

Previous: Negotiating with Cookies #22 – A Walk with Fleegle

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

Negotiating with Cookies #17 – Take and Bake

Published on by Raud Kennedy2 Comments

We pull into a parking spot in front of the take and bake pizza place.

Fleegle sniffs at the inch wide gap at the top of the shotgun window. “I can smell it from here. I can smell pizza through brick walls. Why ever eat kibble when there’s pizza?”

“You’re drooling.” I open my door. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be waiting, and drooling.”

“Don’t I know it.”

I return minutes later, saran wrapped pizza in hand. “Stay in your seat, please,” I say as I slide the pizza on the dashboard in front of me and get behind the wheel.

Sitting next to a puddle of drool, Fleegle stares intently at the pizza as if with his gaze alone he could levitate it into his mouth. He leans toward it as far as he can, vigorously sniffing the air while barely keeping his butt on his seat.

He sees me glancing at him, ready to guard the pizza from sudden attack. “What? I’m just making sure you got the right pizza and not someone else’s.”

 

Next: Negotiating with Cookies #18 – 425 Degrees for 14 Minutes

Previous: Negotiating with Cookies #16 – Pizza

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

Fallout

Published on by Raud Kennedy6 Comments

Sadie woke from her nap, stretched her front legs, fanning her toes on her paws as she did, and rose. Dog, I sure needed that nap, she thought. I love naps, naps and balls. She looked inside the small plastic crate next to her bed where she kept the new pet her parents gave her for her birthday.

“Wakey-wakey.” She nudged the crate door with her nose. “Did you sleep well? I sure did. I bet you need to go outside to piddle and make poopies.”

She opened the crate door and out walked a little man about ten inches tall, naked except for a piece of frayed cloth wrapped around his waist. Continue reading “Fallout” →

The Trickster

Published on by Raud Kennedy7 Comments

the tricksterThe Death Valley tour bus parked on a viewpoint off Badwater Road, and about half the members braved the heat to get off the bus and take in the view of the dry lake bed of Badwater Basin.

A little girl in pigtails, pointed at a moving speck far across the distant lake bed. “Daddy, what’s that?”

Her dad squinted against the brightness of the white sand, at first not seeing anything, but after a moment spotted it. “I dunno, honey.” Continue reading “The Trickster” →

The Racist Pea

Published on by Raud Kennedy5 Comments

Raud Kennedy - the racist peaSometimes when I’m on my walks with my two-legger and I see a Chihuahua, a little voice in my head will say, “There goes Pedro, stinking of beans.” It’s not my voice. It’s someone else’s because I like beans. Beans don’t stink, they smell good. Beans are food and I love food. All food. Even Costco biscuits. So it’s not even something I would think, let alone say.

Then I’ll see a Rottweiler and the little voice will say, “There goes Tyson, looking for a fight.” I’ve met plenty of friendly Rotties so I know it’s not me saying that, even if I’m the only one who hears it inside my head. Sometimes when I hear these words, I wonder if I’m sharing my head with a little racist dog, like a twin who never completely formed, except as maybe a pea-sized part of my brain. Continue reading “The Racist Pea” →