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"Pet Stories"


Chapter 22
Harley's Ampeletum

By Mustang Patty

Oh the joy puppies bring
with their little faces
puppy barks, nips and fun
running puppy races

On my hands are traces
little teeth leave their mark
I try to scold Harley
he just gives a sharp bark

He's growing oh so fast
won't be a pup too long
playing in the bright sun
singing a puppy song

Oh the joy puppies bring
at times he is gnarly
but then he starts to calm
my little pup, Harley

Author Notes The ampeletum is a poem of four quatrains created by fellow fanstorian Jejo. Each line consists of 6 syllables, with no required meter. The rhyme scheme is Abcb bded fgcg Aehe. The capital A means that this first line of the poem is repeated as the first line of the final stanza. Also note that lines B,C and E have rhyming sounds that are repeated in later stanzas. Thanks to adewpearl, Gungalo and a few others, I had the guts to try this form.
This is the first picture I got of Harley from the breeder. He has grown so much since then, . . . and I can't remember NOT having him in my life. ~p~


Chapter 23
Harley's First Christmas

By Mustang Patty

Sitting in his doggy playpen, Harley was able to simply look at the tree in the living room. Pretty lights and all sorts of round things graced the branches. It was pleasant to look at. The Mistress had lit some candles that made the room smell good, and for once, the cats weren't taunting him.

Harley liked to spend time in his doggy playpen. He would rather be held by the Mistress all the time, but the playpen was filled with toys and he could run around a bit. The sides were black mesh, and it even had a top so he couldn't jump out, and the cats couldn't jump in.

Harley's sharp ears heard a car door outside. He could hear the low mumbling of the Mistress and the Man talking. They were home! Eagerly, he sat and waited for the front door to open. Unable to control himself, he let out a few excited barks, "Welcome home! Welcome home! I'm so glad to see you."

When the front door opened, the plastic shopping bags came in first. There seemed to be quite a few. The Mistress had several bags in each hand, and so did the Man. Straight to the kitchen went the Mistress, but the Man went back outside.

Soon the kitchen counters were covered with boxes, cans, yummy smelling bags, and one parcel that smelled just lovely. Simba and Leo were sitting next to the playpen watching in awe just like Harley. Where did all this food come from? How would the Mistress and the Man eat it all? Maybe, some of it would be shared with them? No, the Mistress always told them that they did NOT eat people food.

Harley's tulip ears were at attention. He watched every move the Mistress made. He knew that she would come and get him. She always did. And then, it happened. She looked over to his playpen and smiled.

"Are you ready for your dinner, Harley?"

His little stump of a tail wagged in answer. He began to jump up and down and hurl himself against the mesh sides of the playpen. It was time to get out!

The Mistress unzipped the top of the playpen and reached in to pick him up. He snuggled in her arms and strained his neck to lick her face. His tail was wagging so fast, it was hard to see. She crooned to him and kissed his head and put him down on the kitchen floor so she could get him something to eat.

He watched her every move as she scooped some of his food from a can into a small bowl, poured a bit of dry puppy kibble on it, and popped it into the microwave. He heard the soft ding after a few seconds, and then she presented him with his dinner. He could still smell the marvelous parcel on the counter, but his stomach told him to eat what he was given.

"Do you think we got enough food for everyone?" fretted the Mistress.

"I'm reasonably sure that no one will go hungry," laughed the Man.

Within the hour, everything was put away, and the Mistress was busy cooking on the stove. The Man took Harley to play the new game he knew. He chased the blue and white ball all over and always reminded himself to bring it back to the Man so he could throw it again. This was fun, but Harley only really liked the petting and calls of "Good dog," whenever he brought the ball back.

There was a knock on the door. Harley was confused. Both of his people were here. Who could that be? The Man went and opened the door, and in walked four new people, and they were carrying another cat in a black bag. Soon the house was full of noise, hugging, and every time someone went outside, they were bringing in more and more stuff! There were suitcases, bags, boxes, and more food!

For the next two days, Harley heard more laughter, more talking and the love in the room was so real you could almost touch it. Harley passed between the humans all the time. There was always someone to hold him - even while he was sleeping.

The new cat was named Mufasa, and it was obvious Simba and Leo knew him. There was no fighting, only good-hearted chasing and fighting over toys. At one point, the entire living room floor was covered with bits and pieces of wrapping paper, and Harley and the cats tore through it in one of the best chase games ever.

Everyone loved their gifts. Harley got some new toys and a special orange kerchief with his name on it! He got a few new bones to chew, and several squeak toys. He fell asleep with his squeaky bone between his feet. All of his dreams were happy ones.

On the morning of the third day, all of the boxes, bags, and people were packed up. All of the people seemed to be sad, and Mufasa was put back into his black bag. There was lots of hugging, laughing, crying, and talking all at once.

And then, the house was empty except for the Mistress, Harley, Simba and Leo. She came over to him and picked him up. He placed doggy kisses all over her face. Her face tasted different than usual and it was wet. Harley did his best to make all the wet stuff go away and then the Mistress was giggling.

Harley loved that sound. He burrowed into the sleeves of her shirt and gave a contented sigh. Closing his eyes, he said goodbye to his first Christmas.

Author Notes 951 Word Count: As many of you know, my family celebrated Christmas on Jan 7 and Jan 8. Harley was SO excited with all the people in the house! (So was I.) We had a great time, and Harley was a big part of the weekend.


Chapter 24
The Choka for Jack

By Mustang Patty

It was a low point

When Jack came into my life

The cutest kitten

Mostly Abyssinian

With perfect markings

He brought me joy ev'ry day

Too much pain to bear

On my own or all alone

Jack was my comfort, my cat

Author Notes The Choka

Another of ancient Japan's many poetic forms; choka may be the longest of them. Choka may be translated as: long poem, the opposite of tanka ('Short poem.') In fact, Choka guidelines dictate a minimum of seven lines, but no maximum.

Like haiku, senryu, and tanka, choka does not rhyme and has specific syllable counts in each line. The most basic choka has three couplets with syllable counts of five and seven per line, plus a last seven-syllable line. This form allows a lengthy poem, using as many 5-7 couplets as the author chooses, then the finishing line. Thus, a nine-line choka would have the following syllable pattern:

5 - 7 - 5 - 7 - 5 - 7 - 5 - 7 - 7


Chapter 25
Leo Time

By Mustang Patty

His eyes so green and bright
His grey fur reflects light
A tiny and almost
Silent meow his voice
He waits his turn for love
She will come, always does.

She is with that dog
Like she is each morn
Tired of sharing
How Leo wishes dog
Had never been born

His turn will come
She will lay down
He takes his place
Above her crown

The pillow
A soft touch
Much Purring

Happy
Leo

His
Time

Author Notes Diminished Hexaverse

A poetic form that starts with a stanza of Six six-syllable lines in the first stanza, and then each following stanza decreases the lines and syllables; i.e., the next stanza would be Five five-syllable lines. There are no set rules about rhyme, meter or rhythm.


Chapter 26
Gilligan; my little buddy

By Mustang Patty

Gentle spirit and soft little voice

Indispensable kitten of choice

Little and cuddly, too cute to ignore

Loneliness chased away

Into my life he came to stay

Guard the apartment while I'm in class

Await my homecoming

Nibble my toes and drink from my glass

Author Notes My college roommate was a little cat named Gilligan. He rescued me from loneliness and I had to hide him because he wasn't allowed in my apartment. He entertained me all through school, and then he went for a walk one day and never came back. Obviously, he had someone else to save!


Chapter 27
Puppy Love

By Mustang Patty

Author Note:To my new puppy - help - I need a NAME

The cutest little face
Terrible puppy breath
Starring in his own race
He will run to the death

Pink little tongue
Licking to show love
Just a few pounds
Packed with energy
that knows no bounds

Knowing he will grow
Pictures are taken
Growth doesn't slow
He is bigger with every wakin'

Puppies are a joy
And so much work
Another little boy
With a cute little smirk!

Author Notes I just purchased a new puppy - and he will be coming from the kennel in mid December. I've been looking at puppies for months now, . . .and I'm SO excited! I realize I've taken GREAT poetic license with this, . .it doesn't have any real pattern, and I've stretched a few of the rhymes - but my heart is SINGING, and I had to write!


Chapter 28
Harley in Diamante Form

By Mustang Patty

PUPPY
Cuddly, warm
Loving, licking, jumping
Loyal, attentive, agreeable, friend
Greeting, yelping, kissing
Devoted, attached
BUDDY

Author Notes The Diamante is a single stanza consisting of seven lines with strict rules and guidelines. The TOP and BOTTOM lines are single words - NOUNs, and the poem converges between them at the center line. The TOP and BOTTOM words should be synonyms or antonyms, and all the words and phrases in the lines between them will be describing one or the other.

Line 1: Noun
Line 2: two adjectives describing the first noun (L1)
Line 3: three adjectives that describe the first noun (L1), all ending in 'ing.'
Line 4: four words - two regarding the first noun (L1) and two regarding the synonym or antonym (L7)
Line 5: three adjectives that describe the synonym/antonym (L7), all ending in 'ing.'
Line 6: two adjectives that describe the synonym/antonym (L7)
Line 7: Synonym/antonym of the first noun (L1)

A small edit to change the top noun to puppy was suggested by several reviewers to lessen the need for the picture.


Chapter 29
A New Years Poem for Harley

By Mustang Patty

December thirty-one
Hard to believe this year is done.
Many things have happened
But the biggest so far
Is getting Harley
My new little star.

No dog for ten years
Such a long time
I wasn't pet-less
Cats comforted my tears
Helped me rhyme

With Harley in the house
Nothing is the same
For me or my spouse
No one to blame

He demands time
Loves to be held
It would be a crime
To not enjoy these puppy days
And learn his little ways
Sharp little teeth
Bite my hands and feet
But the look on his face
Is Oh so puppy-sweet

2011 will be Harley's year
For him, I've kept my
Schedule clear
Next New Year's he will be
A full-grown dog
Fast asleep like a little log

Author Notes Free verse and random rhymes; the lack of punctuation is my own. Happy New Year everyone!!


Chapter 30
Stormy Waves

By Mustang Patty

Cat
so soft
warm
lying
Oh so still
And yet
your
mind is
actively
tracking the noise
of your next
victim
A
tiny
little ant
crawling
slow
on the
floor

Author Notes This poem is for my cat, Storm. Storm lived with us from 1995 until late 1999. He was a beautiful tuxedo with a very sweet disposition. He loved to hunt ants~
A Wave poem is written in such a way as to portray a series of ocean waves. This classic form uses short lines of less than eight syllables; the theme is usually a display of tranquility, or something calm from nature. Meter and rhyme are not utilized, but instead a changing syllable pattern is used to make the shape of the ocean waves.

The syllable pattern I chose to use is as follows:

1,2,1,2,3,2,1,2,3,4,3,2,1,2,3,2,1,2,1

My research shows that this is not the only pattern to be used; it all depends on the height and depth of waves you wish to portray.


Chapter 31
Rainbow Beauty

By Mustang Patty

Shimmering soft gray fur

My heart strings, he did stir

In a window at the store

Just hanging upside down

He was a little clown

Allergies said cats no more

I didn’t care, you see

I knew he was for me

His love made my spirit soar

Author Notes Balassi Stanza
This form of poetry was created by Balint Balassi, a 16th century Renaissance lyricist from Hungry.

Each stanza consists of 57 syllables, with the syllables and rhyming pattern in each line as follows:
6 syllables a
6 syllables a
7 syllables b
6 syllables c
6 syllables c
7 syllables b
6 syllables d
6 syllables d
7 syllables b
Like many syllable based poetry forms, there is no set meter required.


Chapter 32
The Beginnings of my pet stories

By Mustang Patty



Over the years, I've been blessed to have pets share and enhance my life.  At this stage of my life, Bernie and Howie follow me everywhere and bring me a great deal of joy.  For many years, cats shared my house and heart.  I've compiled some older postings, and I will add to this book of Pet Stories as often as I can.  Since my house has many pictures of the felines and canines who have graced my life, it shouldn't be hard to come up with a story or two.
 
I will talk about my very first kitten, Penny, and take you through the trail of cats with names like Leo, Simba, and Mufasa.  I will also tell you tales of my beautiful kitties, Rain and Storm.  There may not have been as many dogs as cats, but they all have their own stories, too.  These dog stories of Inky, Bear, Honey, and Harley will stand side by side with Bernie and Howie tails…um, tales.
 
I came to love stories about animals in the sixth grade.  My school library had a collection of books written by Albert Payson Terhune.  Mr. Terhune, who was born in New Jersey, lived from 1872 until 1942.  He was a prolific writer, known mostly for his books about dogs.  During his years of writing, and breeding collies, he produced thirty dog-focused novels, such as 'Lad, a Dog,' 'Wolf,' and 'A Dog named Chips.'  Many of his dog stories were published in the 20s and 30s in 'Redbook,' 'Saturday Evening Post,' and 'Ladies Home Journal.'
 
After reading many of his books, I began to write stories about my pets using his anthropomorphized style.  Basically, I personify each of my animals with their own personality traits.  These stories are some of the favorite things I write.
 
Though the only pets I currently have are Howie and Bernie, my furry little boys, I often think of the pets that have enriched my life and graced the page.  I'm sure that other pet lovers will be able to relate to these stories.
 
I hope you will enjoy these stories as much as I've been happy to share them with you.



 

Author Notes All of the photos included in the stories of this book are mine. I dabble in photography and I have a huge collection of photos.


Chapter 33
Harley meets Simba and Leo

By Mustang Patty

Harley was wide awake and very anxious. Still in the crate, he could smell all kinds of new things. The new face in his life was never very far away, and he was getting used to her voice and smell. He continually stared at her because he wasn't sure what to make of her. Was she going to be the new leader of the pack?  She certainly wasn't a dog like him--but she did remind him of that other face back in his other home.

She put his crate in the front seat of the car and faced the opening towards her. She made the car move with a big wheel, and there was music coming from in front of him and a few other places, too. He didn't want her to know he was studying her, so every time she looked at him, he looked away.

He was starting to feel sleepy. It was nice and warm in the car, and he longed to put his head down, but there were too many new things to smell and look at. She was talking very softly to him. One of the words she kept repeating on a regular basis was 'Harley.' He was starting to think that was probably her name for him. It was okay, and easy to remember. As sleep finally took over, he began to think of himself as Harley.

Waking up in his familiar crate, he didn't feel alarmed, but he did know something was different. The car wasn't moving anymore, and the new face was getting out. Where was she going? Would she come and get him? Would she ever be back? He couldn't help himself, Harley let out a little whine.

Within a minute, the door opened, and he felt the crate being lifted out of the car. She was telling him this was his new home. Home meant warmth, his mother, and all his littermates. His tail began to wag and he was filled with joy. The new face rescued him and brought him back to his mother!

They entered the house, and Harley could smell all kinds of new smells. There was one that was unfamiliar but tantalizing. He couldn't wait to see what it was! His crate was put down in a corner, and the face was at the mesh door. She told him she would open the door, and he could come out when he wanted to.

Harley sat in the crate and let his nose do the initial exploring of this new place. What was that one smell? It was an animal, but it wasn't his mother or his littermates. It smelled different and Harley wanted to find it. Tentatively, he put one paw outside of the kennel. The floor felt warm, so he cautiously brought the rest of his feet and body out. After such a long journey, it felt good to be out of the crate, and he luxuriously stretched his front paws in front of him and arched his back in a giant curve. The stub of his tail began to wag because it felt so good to be free!

Water was running, and the face set some dishes in front of him. He was too excited to eat, but he loved the water. After taking a few mouthfuls, he decided to find out what the strange smell was. It didn't take long because he could see four eyes peering at him from the other side of the room.

Two of the eyes belonged to a big black face covered with fur. The size of this animal was startling because it was bigger than his mother. A long fluffy tail wrapped around its feet, and Harley wanted to grab it and shake it. Sitting next to the big black face was a slender grey face with green eyes. It too stared and watched every move Harley made. The grey fur was pretty, and Harley wanted to get closer.

He walked very slowly with his head up, and his tail held high and wagging. He wanted these new animals to know that he meant no harm - at least not yet. Across the room, he crept with his eyes locked on theirs. Suddenly, he heard a low growl coming from the big black beast.

The growl set Harley into action, and his pace changed to a charge. He ran up to their faces, and was met with a huge black paw. The paw batted at him - hit his face, the top of his head, and then he heard a loud hiss. Within seconds, both animals were gone. They left the room, and he didn't know how to follow them. With his tail hanging down, he walked back to his only friend, the face.

She was humming and softly calling his name. She bent down and picked him up and cradled him in her arms. He gratefully licked the face he now knew was his pal. With a soft sigh, he cuddled in the crook of her arm, and quickly fell asleep. He would get those animals later. Right now, he just needed some shut-eye.

 

Author Notes this was originally posted on January 1, 2011

It took awhile, but eventually Simba would come and play with Harley. Leo was never too sure about the little white and black furball. That first meeting was intense!


Chapter 34
Simba

By Mustang Patty

Simba was the hands-down favorite of all the cats I've owned.  He had a personality and funny mannerisms.  His glossy, long, fur was soft, and his tufted ears never failed to delight me.  Though twenty-pounds of pure black cat sounds fat, he was just very large.

I always considered him a used cat because we adopted him when he was four years old.  We found him at a pet store waiting to be taken home.  I was intrigued by his size and age, but wondered about the bonding experience. 

Turns out, there was nothing to worry about.  After Simba got used to his surroundings, he was quite the talker and followed me everywhere.  He yearned to be in my lap, and his size made me feel like I had a lap dog.  His chatter made me laugh, and we used to have long conversations.

We were lucky enough to enjoy his company for another five years.  His antics brought much laughter and his big heart encompassed mine.  At only nine years old, he was gone.  I have missed him every day since. He was unique and most definitely far from used, or less than perfect.

 

Author Notes I still love this fat cat.


Chapter 35
Ruler

By Mustang Patty

Cat,
black
Simba,
Golden eyes
Luxurious fur
Self-proclaimed Ruler of the House

Author Notes Fibonacci, aka Fib Poetry, is based upon a numerical sequence named for the twelfth century mathematician, Leonardo Fibonacci. The sequence begins with a 0 and a 1, and progresses to the next number by adding the two numbers that came before:

For example, 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55 and so on, with the number being EITHER the syllable count or word count for the line. Most Fibs, are just six lines and utilize syllable counts, in the succession 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8.

As is the case with most syllable-based formats, there are no rhyme or meter requirements.


Chapter 36
for Leo

By Mustang Patty


Leo is a silver grey cat
While Simba is his best friend,
He thinks Harley is a rat

Simba is black and fat,
For food he has to fend
but, Leo is a silver grey cat

Soft fur the Mistress loves to pat
To him she used to tend
He thinks Harley is a rat

On the window ledge he sat,
Till the dog ran round the bend
but, Leo is a silver grey cat

On her pillow is where it's at,
His heart about to rend
He thinks Harley is a rat

Knowing where love is at,
He will love her to the end
but, Leo is a silver grey cat
He thinks Harley is a rat

Author Notes originally posted in early 2011. Leo was one of those cats who was a bit understated, but his purr was loud and he was very loyal.


Chapter 37
Inside Mufasa's head

By Mustang Patty

"I wonder if they are EVER going to leave,"
his little voice inside his head reflected.

"For a few weeks there, I was the ONLY cat,
and then they showed up, and everything changed."

"The big, black, fat one - Simba, by name,
Sits on my head for affect,
It doesn't hurt, no not a bit,
But, . .its SO humiliating."

"Leo, the sleek grey one, with such a bad attitude,
truly thinks he is one BAD dude,
but, late at night, he comes to snuggle, licking my head,
making soft, comforting noises, while we cuddle."

"WHEN are they leaving? Where is the lady that dropped them off?"
"Is that why she brought me toys?"

"Oh, . . .when, will I have my master all to myself again?"

Author Notes Mufasa is the kitten of my son. He is taking care of my two cats while I'm on an extended vacation. I can only imagine what Mufasa thinks of all this.


Chapter 38
Noises unseen

By Mustang Patty

He stared at the closed door,
He couldn't believe it,
This had never happened before,
He decided to just sit.

Why was a door closed in his house?
There were noises inside,
Was it the stirrings of a mouse?
If only it would open wide!

Deep in his kitty brain,
Horrible images were forming,
On his life, this moment was a stain,
It came without any warning.

If only he had thumbs,
If only he were taller,
He hears soft hums,
and then a holler.

Poor kitty!
If only he knew,
Behind the door was love,
Reserved for just us two.

Author Notes In order to have privacy in our house, we have to close doors. My eight-year-old, Siberian Forest Cat does not understand why this could ever happen!


Chapter 39
Harley, Simba and Leo PLAY

By Mustang Patty

Simba sat in one of his usual spots. He claims all of the corners in the house but he particularly loves dark corners where he can fit under a piece of furniture and still see the room. Every day Mom is giving the little dog more and more time to simply roam the house. From these darkest spots, Simba can observe the little beast and keep an eye on him. He doesn't want to take the chance of Mr. Harley sneaking up on him.

He cleans his enormous front paws. Each of his forefeet measures four inches in diameter. The removal of his claws by his first owners seemed to make them even bigger. He chews on the black furry tufts residing between each of the pads. He rubs his tongue against the roof of his mouth in an effort to get rid of the fur coating the surface. It is such a chore to have long, luxurious, silken fur.

From the bedroom, Simba can hear the sounds of Mom waking up. In his mind's eye, he follows her early morning routine. First she stretches under the covers. He can hear the snap, crackle and pop of her spine as she extends her legs and toes. With a sigh, she tosses the covers aside. He hears Leo's protest as she moves her head from the pillow.

Leo lives within the fairy tale that her pillow will always be his spot. In Simba's mind, he wonders how much longer until the little dog claims the bed at night. Leo still holds out for the notion the little beast is simply visiting. Simba knows better. He's lived longer and shared other houses with other dogs.

Flicking his ears forward, he is focused on the movement of Mom's feet as she moves across the living room. He can hear Mr. Harley whine softly as she approaches the gate that keeps him in the kitchen. Hidden in the shadows, he watches the sickening exchange of baby talk she has with the little dog. He hears her back pop and crack as she bends to lift him over the gate. She cuddles him lovingly in her arms and talks to him as she walks towards the room with her books and small screen.

With great anticipation, Simba watches her prepare the room for Harley's maniacal running. She makes sure he has plenty of toys to chew on before she closes the glass french doors. Simba does some stretching of his own as he prepares to play the game he invented.

He ambles across the living room and his eyes never lose sight of the unsuspecting Mr. Harley playing in the den. Simba is confident the doors are closed tight because the sound of Mom hitting the key thing by the screen is muted. He uses all of his stealth to arrive at the door. He lays his ears flat against his head and plops down with his eyes peering through the door.

Leo can see Simba's progress across the living room from his perch on the back of the recliner. He decides to join in the fun. This game works even better when both of them play on their side of the glass.

Harley's inquisitive nose stops smelling every inch of the den as the lovely aroma of his housemates reaches him. In hot pursuit, he runs towards the closed doors and can barely make out the outline of Simba's big black shape. With his approach, Simba starts the low growl that plays in the background of this game. In Harley's peripheral vision, he spies Leo's ghostly silver presence and his little tail wags. This will be great fun! Both kitties are playing with him.

Amidst the sounds of both cats' playful growls and Harley's incessant puppy bark, Mom stops working. She looks for her camera in vain. It sits out in the living room on the other side of the glass doors. Frustrated at her inability to get a proper picture, she memorizes every detail of this game of Simba's making.

Knowing they are safe with the door between them, both Simba and Leo taunt Harley at every turn. He frantically runs across the width of the double doors barking. He bows his back with his front paws extended, beseeching the cats to play fair, but they laugh their kitty taunts while growling and snarling. An occasional hiss is thrown in for good measure. They can't let on to anyone they are truly enjoying themselves.

Harley valiantly plays and refuses to give up. After almost ten minutes of this game, Harley's tongue is hanging out of his mouth, and his breathing is labored. Recognizing the signs, Mom goes to pick him up. She opens the glass doors, and Simba and Leo disappear into the recesses of the house.

Cool water is waiting in the kitchen. Harley laps it up with a grateful heart and is happy to see his kibble bowl is full. After a refreshing snack, he returns to his blanket by the kitchen's archway. He peers through the gate's slats. He can smell the kitties somewhere out there. Laying down his head on his paws, he closes his eyes. He'll get them. Maybe next time they play, or even the day after that. It will happen. He is sure of it.

Author Notes originally posted in January of 2011

At this time, Harley, Simba and Leo have accepted their fate. They will be living together and need to share Mom's time, the house, and refrain from killing each other.


Chapter 40
The Good Life

By Mustang Patty

The days now have a routine. Harley looks forward to hearing footsteps in the morning. He knows that the footsteps bring the face into the kitchen, and after she takes care of feeding those two cats, it will be his special time with her.

Harley thinks of the face as his Mistress, the other person that comes and goes is just the Man. His tail wags and his heart beats faster whenever they are around, especially the Mistress. She is the center of his world. Every morning, she greets him with a beautiful smile to start his day. She lets him stretch fore and aft, and then she picks him up for his morning hug. Life is good.

The kitchen floor is strewn with all kinds of toys. Some are puppy toys - a fuzzy tennis ball, a triple knotted rope for games of tug-of-war, and a squeaking little blob. There are others that Harley stole from the cats; he really loves their catnip mice, and animals with feathers. The unique toys are a 1 liter plastic bottle, an empty roll from paper towels, and a large cap a from drink bottle. Harley's special favorites are the magazines and catalogs that come through the mail slot. It is so much fun to shred them into bits.

Life found a rhythm that works for the Mistress and Harley. She spends at least fifteen minutes playing the game of his choice in the kitchen every few hours, and then she goes back to doing 'Mistress Stuff.' Harley can hear the click-clack of keys coming from the den, or the noisy vacuum, and her soft humming in the background. As long as he can hear her somewhere in the house, he is content to play with his toys or nap on the soft sweatshirt she laid on the floor for him.

Some days, Mistress takes Harley in the car with her. He is secure inside his crate, and she sits the door facing her as they drive, just like the very first day. He watches her face and listens to the music coming from the speakers. Her singing is pleasant to his ears, and he listens to each note. Harmonizing is often on his mind, but that will have to wait until he gets a more grown-up voice. The short adventures in the car are usually to take the Man somewhere. They take him in the morning, and then return there later in the day. Harley surmises that it is the place where he does 'Man Stuff.'

One day, shortly after Harley arrived, the Mistress put him in the car and drove to a different place. She turned the car off, and came around to the other side of the car to take his crate. Once inside this place that smelled like hundreds of cats, dogs, and some strong cleaner, the Mistress spoke to someone at a high desk. A few minutes later, they went into a little room where the Mistress coaxed him out of the crate.

Soft towel beneath his feet, Harley looked into a stranger's face. She had a nice smile and glasses like the Mistress. She was talking in the soothing tone that Harley liked. He wagged his tail and laid his ears back in submission to let this new person know he meant no harm. He was excited and scared all at the same time.

A different man came in. He smelled like other animals, and he too wore glasses. His hands were warm and knowledgeable. He picked Harley up and took him to the scale.

"First, we need to know how much this little guy weighs. I want to make sure to know how much of the shot he needs. Four pounds, 2 ounces - a nice healthy weight for a puppy."

Harley wiggled in the stranger's arms. He liked him, but he didn't like not being able to see the Mistress. Once he was back in the room and on the table next to her arm, he calmed down again. The man picked him up again, poked, prodded, and looked inside his ears.

"He looks great. We will just get him started on his shots, and go from there. We will probably neuter him in about six weeks. Does that sound good?"

Taking Harley back into her arms, the Mistress replied, "Yes, that sounds great." He settles into the crook of her arm and closed his eyes. He is safe and life is good.


 

Author Notes Harley was such a great puppy, and he grew into a wonderful little dog. As I revive these stories, I find myself missing him. But, for now, I will share his stories with you and rejoice in the joy he still brings.


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