| General Non-Fiction posted April 5, 2017 | Chapters: |
...4 5 -6- 7... 
|
  |
another doggy story
A chapter in the book 2018 Bernie and Howie Stories
Howie and the Snack Ball
by Mustang Patty
Howie curled up in the blanket on the couch. His nose buried under a flap of the blanket because he was a bit put out. The blanket rose every so often as he sighed or huffed. He wanted to be on the pillow, but the Mistress had told him in a very firm voice, "No, Howie. That's mine." Howie contented himself with putting his butt as close to the Mistress as the couch would allow.
With a sigh, he put his head down on top of his long flowing ear. Howie licked his chops slowly, and opened his mouth for a big yawn. His tongue curled in an upward motion and his teeth glistened in the dim light of the room. Stretching his front legs out in front of him, Howie settled down for a nap. Of course, he never knew when the Mistress would decide to move, and he would be forced to settle in a new place.
On the TV was one of those court shows, and the people were arguing in annoying voices. How on earth could the Mistress enjoy this stuff? It was beyond Howie's comprehension. Peeking from under the flap of the blanket, Howie saw Bernie sneaking towards him. Bernie's small paws were inching slowly across the couch, and his little eyes beamed. Howie just knew Bernie wanted his blanket.
Without warning, the Mistress got up. Thinking quickly, Howie moved to the much coveted pillow. As he moved, Bernie took over his place on the blanket. The game of musical spots was starting.
Howie enjoyed his comfortable spot on the pillow. He loved the Mistress's pillow. In addition to its being so squishy, the pleasant scent of the Mistress permeated the material. Stretching his full form across the plumpest part, he waited to hear the Mistress coming back. The best part of the game was being discovered.
The Mistress was in the kitchen, and she filled her water glass. Howie heard her every move. She was doing something with a box on the counter. Anticipating a treat, Howie stood and wagged his tail. He moved just far enough for Bernie to steal the pillow.
Reaching for the bright orange snack ball, the Mistress opened it and placed the treats inside. Howie wagged his puffy tail furiously. He was very excited. He loved the snack ball.
No longer interested in the pillow, blanket, or even the couch, Howie jumped to the floor. He ran to the Mistress and stood on his back feet. Waving his front paws in the air, he begged her to put the ball down.
With maddening slowness, the Mistress rolled the ball on the carpeted living room floor. Howie rushed to the noisily rolling ball. Using his front paws, he swiped and kicked at the ball like a soccer player heading for the goal.
The ball rolled with every swipe. It bounced between walls, furniture, and the ottoman. Too big to roll under the couch, Howie continued to bump it along the bottom edge. With each thud, he could hear the tasty treats bouncing inside.
Just as he started to lose his little doggy mind, a treat slipped through the narrow opening in the top. Triumphantly, Howie picked up the delicious morsel and snacked on its crunchiness.
The Mistress had the pillow again. Bernie had the blanket. Howie didn't care. He had his snack ball.
Howie curled up in the blanket on the couch. His nose buried under a flap of the blanket because he was a bit put out. The blanket rose every so often as he sighed or huffed. He wanted to be on the pillow, but the Mistress had told him in a very firm voice, "No, Howie. That's mine." Howie contented himself with putting his butt as close to the Mistress as the couch would allow.
With a sigh, he put his head down on top of his long flowing ear. Howie licked his chops slowly, and opened his mouth for a big yawn. His tongue curled in an upward motion and his teeth glistened in the dim light of the room. Stretching his front legs out in front of him, Howie settled down for a nap. Of course, he never knew when the Mistress would decide to move, and he would be forced to settle in a new place.
On the TV was one of those court shows, and the people were arguing in annoying voices. How on earth could the Mistress enjoy this stuff? It was beyond Howie's comprehension. Peeking from under the flap of the blanket, Howie saw Bernie sneaking towards him. Bernie's small paws were inching slowly across the couch, and his little eyes beamed. Howie just knew Bernie wanted his blanket.
Without warning, the Mistress got up. Thinking quickly, Howie moved to the much coveted pillow. As he moved, Bernie took over his place on the blanket. The game of musical spots was starting.
Howie enjoyed his comfortable spot on the pillow. He loved the Mistress's pillow. In addition to its being so squishy, the pleasant scent of the Mistress permeated the material. Stretching his full form across the plumpest part, he waited to hear the Mistress coming back. The best part of the game was being discovered.
The Mistress was in the kitchen, and she filled her water glass. Howie heard her every move. She was doing something with a box on the counter. Anticipating a treat, Howie stood and wagged his tail. He moved just far enough for Bernie to steal the pillow.
Reaching for the bright orange snack ball, the Mistress opened it and placed the treats inside. Howie wagged his puffy tail furiously. He was very excited. He loved the snack ball.
No longer interested in the pillow, blanket, or even the couch, Howie jumped to the floor. He ran to the Mistress and stood on his back feet. Waving his front paws in the air, he begged her to put the ball down.
With maddening slowness, the Mistress rolled the ball on the carpeted living room floor. Howie rushed to the noisily rolling ball. Using his front paws, he swiped and kicked at the ball like a soccer player heading for the goal.
The ball rolled with every swipe. It bounced between walls, furniture, and the ottoman. Too big to roll under the couch, Howie continued to bump it along the bottom edge. With each thud, he could hear the tasty treats bouncing inside.
Just as he started to lose his little doggy mind, a treat slipped through the narrow opening in the top. Triumphantly, Howie picked up the delicious morsel and snacked on its crunchiness.
The Mistress had the pillow again. Bernie had the blanket. Howie didn't care. He had his snack ball.
With a sigh, he put his head down on top of his long flowing ear. Howie licked his chops slowly, and opened his mouth for a big yawn. His tongue curled in an upward motion and his teeth glistened in the dim light of the room. Stretching his front legs out in front of him, Howie settled down for a nap. Of course, he never knew when the Mistress would decide to move, and he would be forced to settle in a new place.
On the TV was one of those court shows, and the people were arguing in annoying voices. How on earth could the Mistress enjoy this stuff? It was beyond Howie's comprehension. Peeking from under the flap of the blanket, Howie saw Bernie sneaking towards him. Bernie's small paws were inching slowly across the couch, and his little eyes beamed. Howie just knew Bernie wanted his blanket.
Without warning, the Mistress got up. Thinking quickly, Howie moved to the much coveted pillow. As he moved, Bernie took over his place on the blanket. The game of musical spots was starting.
Howie enjoyed his comfortable spot on the pillow. He loved the Mistress's pillow. In addition to its being so squishy, the pleasant scent of the Mistress permeated the material. Stretching his full form across the plumpest part, he waited to hear the Mistress coming back. The best part of the game was being discovered.
The Mistress was in the kitchen, and she filled her water glass. Howie heard her every move. She was doing something with a box on the counter. Anticipating a treat, Howie stood and wagged his tail. He moved just far enough for Bernie to steal the pillow.
Reaching for the bright orange snack ball, the Mistress opened it and placed the treats inside. Howie wagged his puffy tail furiously. He was very excited. He loved the snack ball.
No longer interested in the pillow, blanket, or even the couch, Howie jumped to the floor. He ran to the Mistress and stood on his back feet. Waving his front paws in the air, he begged her to put the ball down.
With maddening slowness, the Mistress rolled the ball on the carpeted living room floor. Howie rushed to the noisily rolling ball. Using his front paws, he swiped and kicked at the ball like a soccer player heading for the goal.
The ball rolled with every swipe. It bounced between walls, furniture, and the ottoman. Too big to roll under the couch, Howie continued to bump it along the bottom edge. With each thud, he could hear the tasty treats bouncing inside.
Just as he started to lose his little doggy mind, a treat slipped through the narrow opening in the top. Triumphantly, Howie picked up the delicious morsel and snacked on its crunchiness.
The Mistress had the pillow again. Bernie had the blanket. Howie didn't care. He had his snack ball.
 Recognized |
|
Howie absolutely loves the snack ball. Bernie could care less. Of course, that could be because Howie growls every time Bernie even comes close.
Watching him play with the ball like he's a little puppy is pretty amusing. I couldn't get a picture of him with the ball, because he kept moving. I guess he was afraid I would take it and there was still treats in it!
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Watching him play with the ball like he's a little puppy is pretty amusing. I couldn't get a picture of him with the ball, because he kept moving. I guess he was afraid I would take it and there was still treats in it!
You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.
© Copyright 2024. Mustang Patty All rights reserved.
Mustang Patty has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
