Four-hundreth Time's the Charm? [open]
Freyr was not frustrated. If there was one thing he learned within minutes of getting Bogart, it was that acting out in frustration really just made the dog even less likely too cooperate. It had to be made worth his while to want to do something. Sometimes it was just easier to pick the dog up and move him to where Freyr wanted him to be. That didn't mean he gave up from trying.
Which was why he was out on the pavement in front of his house in the sunshine trying to convince Bogart, who was flopped down lazily on the ground, that he should get up and try to standing on the skateboard. Bogart was clearly not interested in doing anything that didn't involve laying right where he was. His legs were splayed out flat, his eyes were closed and he was trying to not listen to Freyr calling to him.
“Come on,” he tried to urge, “Not even for a Skittle?”
He raised an open bag of Skittles and gave it a small shake so that the wrapper and the candy inside crinkled together. Bogart opened his eyes and lifted his head just a bit to see what the noise was. Hoping to encourage him, Freyr crinkled the bag a little more. In response, the dog snorted and put his head back down to the warm pavement, closing his eyes again a moment later.
He sighed and the bag of Skittles vanished and was instead replaced by a snack sized bag of Cheetos. If this didn't work, he was going to go back inside, make some lunch and sit on his rooftop porch to enjoy the fact that it wasn't snowing in New Zealand like it was in Sweden. Sure, he'd go back for a day or two here or there, check on things... pop in on Freyja... But on the whole that dark, doom and gloom –and the cold, was for the birds.
Opening the bag, he pulled out one Cheeto and held it up to Bogart's snout. There was a sniff of interest, then the mouth opened and snatched the puffed treat from Freyr's hand. Amused and somewhat encouraged, he took another Cheeto and laid it on the pavement a foot in front of where Bogart lay. The dog looked from the Cheeto, to Freyr and back again a couple times. Freyr just shrugged. If the dog wanted the Cheeto, he was going to have to at least stand up and go to it.
In theory, anyway. Caesar Milan would disapprove, but Caesar Milan was a relatively lucky amateur trainer who had his shows creatively edited.