By Mustang Patty
Good mornin'. How ya doin' this sunny and bright day? I just had a good nap. Why's your face all wet?
I just went and had a cool drink. The Mistress just changed the water. Oh my, but it was nice and cold.
Is that all you care about, Howie? You seem to just wander 'tween the couch and water and food bowls. Let's do something fun!
I'm afraid, dear Bernie, that our ideas of something fun are drastically different.
Okay, big shot. What do you think is fun?
I think we should go and sit in front of the big screen and pretend we are looking for the channel with the other creatures. If we do that, the Mistress will change the big screen and we can check out those pretty dogs, you know the ones that smell good.
Who wants to do that? I don't think they smell very good. It's not like they smell like a nice treat. There's an idea!
What's an idea?
Let's go ask the Mistress fer a treat. We haven't had one since last night.
Don't be silly. The Mistress is sitting at her screen thing. She's been there for over an hour. That means she's writing a story about us. I, for one, do not want to disturb her. She's probably telling about the time I saved the house from burning down.
When did ya do that? I don't 'member that. Was I there?
No, Bernie. It was before you came to live with us. It was back when I was the only dog.
Wow, Howie. What was that like? Did you get all the treats?
Yes, I did. I didn't have to share with anyone. I got all the treats and all the petting. I was the only one to sleep with the Mistress and Man. It was such a great time.
But you were happy when I came to live with you? Right?
No, not really. The Mistress said I was getting a little brother. She kept telling me that we had the same sire. You were supposed to be smaller than me, even when you grew up. But look at you!
What's wrong wid the way I look?
For one thing, who would ever believe we have same sire. He was a purebred Maltese. I at least look like a Maltese. And you, well, no one really knows what you look like. The Mistress says something about Tramp from some movie.
The Mistress always tells me I'm hansum.
She lies. Have you seen yourself in a mirror? You have those long legs, floppy ears, two tone fur, and your teeth are all snarly.
But, Howie, you have those little teeth on the bottom that stick out in front of the others. I always wonder how you can even chew your food.
At least I look like some sort of a breed. You just look like a mutt.
I'm hansum and a good boy. The Mistress says so. You're just plain mean. I'm not talking to you anymore, Howie.
That will be a relief. Talking to you gives me a headache.
Hey Howie! Looks like the Mistress is done on the screen thingy. Let's go ask for a treat. Will you do that thing where you wave your feet in the air? She likes that.
| Author Notes | picture taken by the author Howie on the left and Bernie on the right |
By Mustang Patty
The veterinarian tech started on her rounds of the kennels and stopped in front of the deluxe run. Scanning the notes, she nodded in satisfaction. The records indicated the dogs had been fed and walked right on schedule each day.
"Hiya Howie and Bernie. Aren't you the lucky boys? Your owners booked you in the lap of luxury. Are you enjoying the TV shows?"
Both dogs thumped their tails in response. She could see they were both some kind of Maltese mixture, but they differed greatly in coloring and size. One of them, she thought it was Bernie, had long legs, while the other one, Howie, had short little legs and a long flowing tail. They were cute little buggers. She looked at her notes again.
"Looks like you're going home tomorrow! I bet you will be happy to see your Mommy and Daddy, huh?"
The dogs just continued to wave their tails at her words. Neither of them understood what most humans said. They didn't always understand what the Mistress said either, but they could tell a great deal by the sound of her voice. This stranger's words had little effect on them. She continued her rounds, and the boys returned to their own activities.
Bernie watched the setting sun from his soft and cushy dog bed. He loved the creature comforts he had here. There was a television in the corner that only showed doggie shows, and soft music flowed from somewhere above him. Cool, clear water was dispensed from a fountain in the corner, and a doggy door led to the place he could do his business.
The shaggy little head turned towards his chum, Howie. Howie was spread out on his doggy bed with great relish. He was on his back with his feet up in the air. Sound asleep, he emitted little puppy sounds and his paws moved as if he were running.
Bernie was smiling to himself as he watched his friend. Despite the absence of the Mistress and the Man, this wasn't a bad place to pass the time. There was fresh food every morning and evening, and someone came to play with them and rub their bellies on a regular basis.
The lights in the kennel were soft and easy on doggy eyes. Bernie alternated between watching the television and Howie. He wasn't sure which was more entertaining. He watched as Howie turned over to his side, and opened his big dark eyes.
| Author Notes |
these are a few pictures of Bernie and Howie from my collection. I really don't have any of both of them together.
While I was in Virginia earlier this month AND when I was in Minneapolis last month, the boys stayed at the kennel. They are completely spoiled while they are there, and though I miss them very much, I know they are being taken care of. |
By Mustang Patty
Facing the fan, Bernie's fur blew back from his face. With his eyes closed, he kept his mouth closed and his nose felt the cool air blowing back into his head. It was a wonderful feeling. He thought this must be like running full speed.
Within such a short time, the outside air had grown hot and humid. Wasn't it just a few weeks back the heat was on? Bernie was thankful for the air conditioning inside their house. He knew the Mistress was, too. She was wearing shorts and a tank top, and her hair was pulled up into a bun on top of her head. A pencil was stuck through her hair and Bernie thought it looked cute, though he really wanted to chew on the eraser.
Licking the pads of his foot one by one, Bernie was deep in thought. Howie wasn't in the house for some reason. Where could he have gone? The Mistress hadn't said much this morning. She was not her usual self, and Bernie could smell fear seeping from her pores. Could it have something to do with Howie?
It was true that Howie was more grumpy than usual over the past few weeks. He snapped and growled at Bernie whenever he came near, and his naps were long and often. It was weird when there was more food for Bernie; Howie usually ate more than his fair share. He moved slower and refused to jump down from the couch. In fact, he refused to jump anywhere. He walked like a much older dog, and he seemed very unhappy.
Bernie's head hurt as he pondered these things. Though he liked having all the Mistress's attention, he missed his chum. He always had had Howie to hang out with. Howie was his big brother.
Jumping down from the couch, Bernie went and grabbed the blue thing. The Mistress sometimes called it a Kong, but he always thought of it as the blue thing. Howie loved it, and usually would come running whenever Bernie picked it up. Not today. Howie was somewhere else, and it bothered Bernie.
A chirping sound was heard, and the Mistress picked up the small black thing that was never far from her side. "Hello?" She listened for a bit.
"Yes, I see. How long will he have to stay?" Another delay and Bernie cocked his head in askance.
"Oh, so I can pick him up tomorrow?" Bernie placed his head on the Mistress's knee as he watched her face go from concern to happiness.
"That would be great. I'm so glad it's all over. Who knew a four-year-old dog could get a hernia?" Her laughter put Bernie's mind at ease. He hadn't heard her laugh in a few days.
"Uh huh. See you tomorrow then."
She bent over and ruffled his ears. "Bernie! Howie will be home tomorrow. It wasn't anything bad—it was just a simple operation and he will be just fine."
| Author Notes |
Howie needed to have surgery, and since they weren't exactly sure what was going on, I was very frightened. It could be something as simple as a hernia or...?
It has been a rough couple of days. |
By Mustang Patty
The alarm went off and the Mistress reached out a hand from under the covers. She tapped for the black box she always had with her and silenced the noise. Bernie jumped up. It was time for his early morning treat! Nuzzling the Mistress's face, he was surprised when she pushed him away. "No, Bernie. I'm not ready to get up."
Bernie sat down on the bed in confusion. He finally laid on his belly and inched forward so that his nose was next to her hand. It was way past the time they usually got the day started. The bright light in the sky was streaming through the windows. With a deep sigh and a sad heart, he laid his head down between his paws.
Howie was stretched out on the other side of the Mistress. He lay on his back with his paws hanging limply above his body. His head was turned to the side, and Bernie could see he was awake from the blinking of his eyes. Both dogs were confused by this strange morning.
Bernie wondered if they would ever get their morning treats. Howie gave a big sigh as if he were commiserating with Bernie. Howie did understand why the Mistress was in bed so long. She was having one of her bad days.
These kinds of days had been further and further apart lately, but Howie knew all the signs. The Mistress would become short tempered and refuse to play. There were fewer treats, and while the TV was on, she didn't really look at it. Instead, she laid on her side, on either the couch or in bed, looking at nothing. She didn't talk to the dogs or go into the kitchen to feed herself.
Howie rolled over on his stomach and inched closer to the Mistress. He extended his paw to touch her shoulder. In his own way, he wanted to let her know he was there for her. He shot Bernie a meaningful glance to quietly lay on his side of the bed.
It had been a difficult week for all of them. First, the suitcases came out of the closet and the Mistress had put some of her clothes in the zippered parts. She went about her chores in a hurried manner and the dogs watched her restless motions throughout the house. Howie knew something was up. He knew that the suitcase meant the Mistress was going somewhere and the kennel was probably waiting Bernie and him.
The kennel hadn't been too bad. The people there were kind and brought them food and treats. They made sure there were blankets and toys, and they talked to them on a regular basis. Howie and Bernie both missed the Mistress and the Master, but they knew they would come back. They always did.
Both dogs lay on the bed and did their best to be quiet and not disturb the Mistress. She was making a steady noise and they knew she was sleeping. Bernie was wondering if they would ever get their treats and then the Mistress stirred.
Pulling his paws tightly to his chest, Bernie stretched out his little body. Arching his back and extending his neck, his back feet splayed behind him, he tried to calm himself down. Keeping his eyes on the Mistress, he tried to decide whether to make himself more comfortable or stand up to greet her. She finally pulled the covers down, and raised her head.
Bernie waited, and then she smiled. "How are you this morning, Bernie? Thank you for letting me sleep in. I needed that." At the sound of her voice, his tail began to wag furiously and he jumped to his feet. He began to 'talk,' and paw at her. It was way past time.
With agonizing slowness, she finally swung her legs down to the floor. Sitting up, she wiped the sleep from her eyes and brushed her hair from her face. "Come on boys, let's try to get this day started."
Flipping on the light switch in the kitchen, she headed for the coffee pot. Both boys were sitting at the entrance of the kitchen with their tails waving like flags. After getting the coffee started, the Mistress took one look at them and remembered about the morning ritual. The boys didn't know the 'treats' were really medicine for their eyes, and she was glad they were so eager to take them. Reaching for the container, she shook it slightly. "Who's ready for their tasty morsel?"
Bernie was beside himself with joy. He turned in circles and raised his front paws with each round. Finally!
Howie was more sedate, but he was happy, too. Maybe the Mistress was back to herself, but he couldn't help but notice the time of day, and the fact she was still in her pajamas. What would be in store for today?
When the coffee was done, the Mistress surprised both the boys. Instead of heading for the 'screen' in the living room, she poured herself a cup and headed back to the bedroom. Both boys sat and waited. When they heard the squeak of the mattress, they joined her in the bedroom.
Turning on the TV in the bedroom, she plumped up the pillows in the bed and sat propped up with her coffee cup in hand. It was one of her bad days.
Howie and Bernie jumped up on the bed and each took a spot on either side of her. Howie propped his head on her leg, and Bernie snuggled close to her side. If she was having a tough time, they would be right there for her.
| Author Notes |
I tried something new. I wrote this in third person, but presented both dogs' points of view, sometimes referred to as Omniscient POV. Does this work? Or is it too messy?
Thank you for continuing to read my 'Pet Stories.' |
By Mustang Patty
The Mistress had been sitting in front of the little screen on her desk for most of the day. Bernie watched her as she went to and fro. She would sit for a while, and then go to put dishes in the wash box, sit back down at the desk, and then throw some clothes in the noisy machine in the closet. Sometimes, she would go to cupboard and take out some treats, making him and Howie do some tricks before dropping the yummy morsels in their mouths.
It was a lazy day. Sitting on the back of the couch, with the Mistress firmly in his line of sight, Bernie surveyed the living room. He liked to spend time up here. He could watch the front door, the Mistress, and Howie all at the same time. Howie didn't move nearly as much as she did, but it was a good thing to know where he was.
Howie suddenly jumped up on the couch and began to make a nest in the blanket. Using his feet and his nose, he moved the blanket to fit his body, and after turning around and round, he laid down. Bernie was tempted to jump on him and disturb his rest, but he wasn't up to the growling and snapping. Howie had such a temper!
"Howie, you will have to move. I need to get up and put the clothes in the dryer." He looked at her with baleful eyes. He was so comfortable lying on the blanket next to her. He liked it when she simply laid on the couch and watched TV. Her depressions were much more comfortable for him. When she felt better, she moved around too much for his taste.
Bernie watched this exchange with interest. If the Mistress was getting up, there was always a chance for a treat. He wagged his tail at her in a plea for attention. As she petted him on her way to the closet with the machines, Bernie started to try to 'talk' to her. The moaning sound coming from his throat was the sound of his gentle words. It wasn't a bark or a growl, but a low moan like a whisper. He often tried to tell her something, and it was his greatest sorrow that she didn't always understand him. This time, she heeded his words. After switching the laundry, she went into the kitchen and grabbed a few treats.
He and Howie waited at the edge of the kitchen as she had taught them. She walked towards them and smiled. Holding the treat above his head, the Mistress ordered, "Up!" Bernie stood on his back legs and gently accepted the tasty morsel. He moved away and heard her repeat the process for Howie.
Returning to the screen, the Mistress looked at something she called the 'tracker.' She called out to them, "Okay, boys. It's time to fence you in. The pizza man is coming!"
She went to the bedroom and grabbed the hated gate. Bernie wanted to growl, but he knew it would be of no use. She placed the contraption in front of the bedroom door, and gently placed each of the dogs behind it. Bernie's heart hurt. How long would he have to be away from the Mistress? Within minutes, there was a knock.
The smell of pizza wafted through the front door. A large man stood holding the flat box and waited for the Mistress's signature. She thanked him, closed the door, and inhaled deeply.
Bernie and Howie were extremely excited. Whining in anticipation, they waited for her to move the gate and give them their freedom. Her progress was slow as she put the box down and went to the cupboard for a paper plate.
Finally, she came and took the hated thing down. Running freely into the kitchen, the tantalizing smell was close at hand. Salivating, they waited for the Mistress to eat. They knew she would share some crust after the first piece. Bernie could hardly contain himself. The delicious smell was driving him crazy. His wagging tail was a blur.
Voluntarily, they both stood on their hind legs in anticipation. The pizza man always brought extreme happiness with him. With the tasty morsels in their mouths, they chewed to great satisfaction.
| Author Notes | Bernie and Howie love everything about the pizza man's visits - except the gate treatment. I do my best to ease the pain, and I think the crust helps. Thank you for reading their stories. They send you their love! |
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.
| Author Notes |
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! |
By Mustang Patty
Music gently played from the brown box that thumped. The Mistress commanded what would play by saying, "Alexa, play…" Bernie didn't really understand who Alexa was, and he didn't really care. He was just glad that the Mistress didn't use that tone when she spoke to him. At least not usually.
Sitting at the screen on her desk, the Mistress was humming along with the music. Bernie loved to hear her sweet melodic tone. He curled up at her feet after turning in a circle several times. He wasn't sure why he turned around in those circles. It was something Howie did, and he thought he should copy it.
Laying on the soft fabric of the slippers, Bernie settled in for a little snooze. The fur on his face stuck out at different angles from his nose to his ears. The ears themselves turned inside out to show the deep pink of his inner ear. Howie would often come and lick them clean. Bernie hated that.
The smell of dinner flowed from the kitchen, and Bernie wished he could have a taste. He knew it wouldn't happen. The Mistress didn't feed her puppies 'people food.' With a deep sigh, Bernie put his head down on his front paws. Stupid rules!
Falling into a doggy snooze, Bernie let his body relax. His little whip of a tail didn't move, but his face twitched in his sleep. Quiet little barks came from his mouth, and the Mistress began to smile. She kept on with her work at the glowing screen and made sure she didn't kick the sleeping heap of gray at her feet.
Within the depths of his dreaming state, Bernie heard the approach of something or someone. His dream self, raised his head and growled. Baring his teeth, he ran to the front door. The door began to open slowly, and Bernie knew it was a stranger. This foul smelling being was walking into their family home. He knew he had to do something, but his paws weren't letting him run. Try as he might, he wasn't going anywhere and the stranger was moving through the house.
Listening to the small barks and watching the twitching of his paws, the Mistress could see that Bernie was deep into his dream. She watched him with a smile, and paused her work. The twitching and barking increased in speed and pitch.
As the dream reached a maddening impasse, Bernie did his best to come out of this sleepy state and get the stranger. How dare this being walk on the Mistress's floor. He couldn't see the Mistress, but he knew he had to protect her!
Gaining control of his limbs, Bernie sprang to his feet as he woke up. Snarling, he ran at the front door. In a rush, he was going too fast, so he put his feet out to break. Sliding at the front door, he hit the large vase standing nearby.
CRASH
"BERNIE!!"
He slunk under the couch and waited for the Mistress to get over her anger.
| Author Notes | Bernie is having a rough day. So is my vase. I needed to clean it up quick so that neither of the dogs would cut themselves. I wrote this story so I wouldn't continue to yell at the poor little dog. He is still under the couch |
By Mustang Patty
Only a glimpse of light could be seen out in the long hallway. The bedding on the hard cement floor didn't feel anything like the cozy couch at home. It was too dangerous to think about the bed. He may just start howling and that would wake up Bernie. The noise that little dog could make would only echo on the walls, and hurt his ears.
Howie's dark brown doggy eyes reflected the small amount of light and he glanced through criss-crossed bars and tried to find something to focus on. Across the way, there was a screen like the one the Mistress had. If he tried, he could almost see her sitting in the chair and tapping her fingers on the flat board underneath. With a deep sigh, he remembered all the early morning hours he had spent cuddled next to her bare feet listening to those tap, tap, taps.
A deep yawn led to him licking his white front paws, Howie couldn't believe the Mistress had left him and Bernie in this jail. It didn't seem that there was anything wrong. He heard her talk into the flat black box, and then she went to the bottom drawer in the cupboard and got out the long black straps that attached to what she called their clothes. The Mistress's hands were always so soothing when she slipped the black thing that went over his head and had a strap that went around his chest. Lovingly, she lifted his left paw and secured the piece going under his leg. Lastly, she gently tugged the length of his ears free. Patting his head before she went to strap Bernie in, she started talking to both.
Howie didn't understand all the words, but he could hear the sad tone in the Mistress's voice. He knew Bernie and he were getting to take a ride in the car and go somewhere. Usually, this was a special treat, but something was causing a bad feeling in Howie's heart of hearts. He lay on the backseat with his head on his paws for the entire ride.
A loud noise pulled him back to his present predicament. Bernie was snoring his head off. Laying on his side, with the lion's share of the measly blanket provided in this cell, he slept like the dead. How on earth could he sleep? Although, he had been up and awake for most of the day. He didn't seem to realize that his barks were mostly ignored in this place. Oh, the people were nice enough. Walks and plenty of food and water were offered, but no matter how sweetly the jailers spoke, they simply weren't the Mistress or Master.
Howie finally started falling asleep. Feeling his toes and whiskers twitch, he drifted off. He was bone tired from worrying all day. This was the second night spent in this jail cell. He tried and tried to think of why the Mistress had brought them here. What could he have done wrong? Or was it that rascal, Bernie?
As he slept, he slipped into a dream. The dream was filled with happiness. The Master was coming home from work. The front door opened and there he stood with his lunchbox in hand. The smell of the outdoors lingered around him, and he came in with the breeze and wet from outside. Howie's tail wagged furiously and he voiced his ecstatic greeting, "Master was home, Master was home!"
Moaning in his sleep, Howie woke himself up. The room was flooded with light, and the people were coming to bring food and fresh water. Howie loved fresh water. The stale water didn't seem to quench his thirst as well, and he wagged his tail in greeting, in spite of himself.
Bernie sprang to life as the door to their jail cell opened. The people cooed their names after checking the sign on the outside of the door. There were comments on the food from yesterday that still filled the dish, but new food was still given. They patted each of the dogs on the head, and offered good hugs. The proffered treats were supposed to help calm them.
Howie snarled at Bernie. He dared to enjoy the meager attention given by these people. Howie could only crave the attention of his people, and he longed for a caress from the Mistress.
Wait! The people were telling him something about going home. Howie's tail began to wag. There's a word he completely understood. Home!
"When? When?" he barked in earnest, but the people couldn't understand his doggy language. Prancing on his front paws, he decided to appeal to their senses. He stood up on his hind legs, and raised his front paws in appeal. The Mistress always called this 'Pretty feet,' and he thought surely the people would understand he was asking for information.
"Your owner will be here soon," one of the people said. Soon! Soon! Howie could hardly contain his excitement. He went over to Bernie and gave him a good-natured snarl. At the invitation to play, Bernie's feet stretched out in front of him, and his tail end was high in the air. They started to run around in circles allowed by the cage's width. With each lap, Howie tugged on Bernie's ear, or nipped at his side. Bernie responded with a bark and an open mouth grab to Howie's side. They were having so much fun, they paid no attention to the opening of the door.
There was one of the people holding their black straps! Standing still, they allowed the contraptions to be pulled over their heads, and fastened under their chests. Patiently, they allowed the hooks to click into place.
Leading them out to the main lobby was an easier chore than getting them back to the kennels. The same girl that put them into the jail cell was now holding the end of their straps. She was bringing them out into the bright sunlight shining through the solarium windows.
There she was! She was standing there with a big smile on her face. Bending down to greet them both, the Mistress kept saying, "My babies. My good boys, oh how I missed you!"
Standing with his paws planted on her lower legs, Howie licked her hands with enthusiasm. He had to fight for her attention with the ever-present Bernie, but for once, he didn't really mind. Howie grinned from ear to ear.
Tugging on their straps, the Mistress called out, "Let's go home, boys."
They were going home to the comfy couch, and later the big and soft bed.
| Author Notes | I needed to go to the dentist for a three hour appointment on Monday morning, so the Hubby and I dropped the boys at the vet's kennel for the weekend. Since Bernie is suffering from separation anxiety, we needed to have a safe place for them to spend some time without angering our neighbors with incessant barking. I found myself worrying all of the time - even though we got to go out to dinner and take in a movie without worrying about the dogs. |
By Mustang Patty
Bernie started his day the way he always did. First, he stood up and placed his front paws out in front of him with his rump in the air. Having stretched thoroughly, he set about his second chore of the day.
Waking up the Mistress was easy enough. Nuzzling up to her face and licking her eyelashes always did the trick. The big brown eyes peeking at him from her face were warm and full of good humor.
"Good morning, Bernie. Did you sleep good?" Bernie answered with a thump of his tail on the bed. "Are you ready for your morning treat?"
At the word "treat," Bernie turned in circles. His antics disturbed his sleeping brother, Howie, and he could hear a low growl. Howie isn't a morning dog.
Throwing the covers aside, the Mistress swung down her feet and slid them into her slippers. Jumping from the bed, Bernie rushed her tiny feet and pretended to grab them with his teeth. While he played, he made a low moaning sound – his version of a growl.
Bernie's tawny and silver body rushed to the kitchen where the treats were kept. All twelve pounds of his furry form stared intently in the direction of the morsels of goodness. His feet were prancing in anticipation of his morning goody.
Never one to disappoint her furry babies, the Mistress fished two treats out of their container. Both dogs knew they needed to behave before they got their goodies. Approaching the dogs sitting obediently, the Mistress doled out the tidbits like a Priest giving communion. She waited for a reply to her request to 'speak,' before dropping each biscuit.
Howie's much better at obeying commands than Bernie. Waiting for the Mistress to comment on this, Bernie hung his head. Two years younger than Howie, he hadn't gotten the strong discipline given to Howie when he was the only pup. Besides, there were just too many rules about barking. They were asked to 'speak' for a treat, but they were hushed when they barked at a knock on the door.
The cuckoo announced the eleventh hour of the day, and the Mistress settled on the couch. She spent most of the morning doing her chores. Bernie watched with mild interest as she flitted from one room to the next. He wasn't entirely sure why she couldn't spend more time with him, but she seemed intent on loading the white whirling machines with clothes, and the pull-down silver thing in the kitchen with dishes.
But now that she was on the couch, Bernie could get some serious cuddling in. He inched his way from his perch on top of the couch's back to sit next to his Mistress. Her hand absent-mindedly rubbed his head and he couldn't think of anything better. Moving close to her side, he curled up and lay with his nose on his tail. It was time for a serious nap.
The rap rap on the front door had both dogs up and barking. With a harsh "No," the Mistress went to see what was making the sound. She pulled open the door to discover a small box on the doorstep.
It seemed to take forever to Bernie. She went and got her box-cutter thing, and slit the blue package tape. Rustling through the packing paper, she pulled out a container. It was more doggy treats! What a lucky little dog he was.
| Author Notes | Bernie is the star of this story, but I will probably write another story from Howie's point of view later. I really don't know what I would do without these little guys in my life. Though I'm blessed with a wonderful family, my hubby works - sometimes out of town, and the children both live far away. The boys are my constant companions. |
By Mustang Patty
| Author Notes |
I wrote this for my pups, Howie and Bernie.
Haiku I recently read that a haiku doesn't have to be strictly about nature. The gyoji haiku refers to cultural observances for religious or national holidays OR both. The seikatsu haiku refers to lifestyle to include work and play (the form I chose for this work.) There is also a combination of the two which called the jinji haiku about the realm of human affairs. |
By Mustang Patty
His floppy ears and big wide eyes make me smile,
Even when he growls in play,
Or leaves me a 'present' on the living room rug,
He makes me smile.
He isn't the smartest,
Or even a great watchdog,
But, he makes me smile
| Author Notes |
When I first started writing on this site back in 2010, I started writing about Harley, my Jack Russell Terrier, in poems and stories. I lost him in 2012, and Howie and his half-brother, Bernie have been my companions over the past few years.
As I rejoin the site, I will share more stories and poems about these little guys. I hope they are as well received as Harley was. |
By Mustang Patty
Bernie could hear the sliding of a drawer. He hoped it was the special drawer in the kitchen where the Mistress kept harnesses and leashes. He heard a sound. It was the clinking of the loops on his leash.
He leaped from the back of the couch. Wasting time, running around, and uttering little excited barks, he let the Mistress know of his joy. He finally went into the bedroom and jumped on the bed to wake Howie.
Gently nipping at Howie's ear, Bernie attempted to wake the sleeping dog. He could see that Howie opened one eye and glared at him. Ignoring the implied threat, Bernie continued to jump on the bed, wagging his tail, and panting in excitement.
The sound of the leashes clinking together was too alluring for the dogs to ignore. Bernie led the way to the kitchen. Waiting for them, the Mistress bent down to put on their harnesses.
"Come on, boys! We're going to go for a walk. Did you notice it's cooler out today?"
Bernie turned his head this way and that as he listened to his beloved Mistress. He had no idea as to what she was saying. He was too busy anticipating their adventure. He watched the Mistress open the cupboard where she kept the plastic bags. Slipping two into the pocket of her sweatshirt, she was ready to leave the house.
"Now don't get too excited boys!" admonished the Mistress. Her feet were tangled in the crisscross of the leashes they had made in their excitement. Stepping through each loop, she finally freed herself.
"Okay, remember to be on your best behavior. No pulling. And, what do we do if we see another dog?"
Bernie looked to Howie. Did he understand what she was saying? Howie was simply wagging his tail and waiting for the door to open. Looking up once more, Bernie decided the Mistress was just telling them they were going out.
Cool, crisp air met his sensitive nostrils as she pulled on the knob. Grateful to be going for a walk, Bernie remembered to walk to her left and keep clear of Howie's leash. Leaves scattered and blew in a funnel shape in the outer hallway of the apartment building. Light peeked into the darkness and Bernie wanted to run, but he held himself in check.
Head up, ears forward, Bernie pranced on his toes to meet the day. Wonderful smells came to him. He could smell the damp grass and plants, some garbage from the receptacle across the way, and car exhaust. He was outside!
Trying to get Howie more enthused, Bernie looked to him for some entertainment. He could tell Howie was simply enjoying the outside, too, so he wisely left him alone. The sun was shining, but the hot heat of the preceding weeks was gone. It was just perfect and comfortable. The concrete beneath his feet wasn't too hot, and life was good.
Gently leading them along, the Mistress was heading for the dog park within the apartment complex. Without any other dogs there, Bernie knew they would be off leash and free to explore within the confines of the fenced area. Great anticipation filled his head.
Opening the gate and closing it securely behind them, the Mistress looked at the dogs with a huge smile. "Okay boys. I'm going to take off your leashes and let you play. You have to come when I call, right?"
Bernie only heard 'leashes' and 'off.' His tail was wagging furiously. Once freed, he ran as fast as he could. He ran all the way to the other fence, and quickly turned around and ran back. The Mistress was seated on the bench within the enclosure and watched her dogs with a smile on her face.
In the corner of the gated area, the wind had formed a deep pile of the recently shed leaves. Bernie approached them on full alert. He made sure there wasn't any danger. Turning around, he ran for a distance, and then turned and rushed the pile. Burrowing under the pile like he did in the blankets on the bed, he relished the feel of dirt and debris on his fur. He continued to run and rush. Eventually Howie followed his lead.
Hearing the Mistress laugh, Bernie ran back to her. Looking up into her joyful face, he was happier than he could remember. Turning away, he went back to attacking the pile of leaves.
After thirty minutes or so, Bernie was tired. Howie had already gone to the bench and joined the Mistress. She'd brought their special drinking bowl, and Bernie gratefully walked to get a drink.
"Should we go home now?"
Bernie slowly wagged his tail. Looking over at Howie, he could see he was wagging his tail, too. "Okay, boys. Let's just put on your leashes."
Each dog stood and waited for her to connect the leash to his harness. With some sadness, they followed her lead as they left the dog park. Bernie hoped they would come back soon. Next time, he would demolish that pile.
| Author Notes |
image courtesy of public domain
Hope you enjoy a bit of fun with Bernie and Howie |
By Mustang Patty
Howie was exhausted. He had no idea how Bernie had the energy to follow the Mistress around. Howie's feet hurt, his back ached, and excuse the pun, he was dog tired. Resting with his feet stretched both fore and aft, he tried to remember why he was so tired.
It had been an exciting few days. On the first day, the Mistress and Man kept telling them they had a surprise for them. Someone named Barney was coming to play. How on earth would Howie keep the names Bernie and Barney straight? How would the Mistress? And worse, how would the Man?
Eventually, there was an exciting sounding knock on the door. The knocking was accompanied by human voices, "Open up in the name of the eclipse! The big camper is here. The fun starts now!"
The noise was enough to make Howie wish to put his paws over his ears. When the Mistress opened the door, loud shrills were emitted as the other woman and her hugged and oohed and ahed. The other man simply shook hands with the Master as he ushered them in. Tagging behind on a leash was 'Barney.'
Hardly believing his eyes, Howie took one look at the over long ears and tail that wagged like a whip. Though this dog wasn't much bigger than Bernie and him, he was much more hyper. He jumped; he wiggled, and he barked—a lot.
So, they all trekked into the big camper. It was a huge room pulled by an equally big pick-up truck. Howie was surprised to see a couch, a chair, and even a bed. A tiny bathroom was at one end, and it looked like someone had shrunk the Mistress's kitchen and put it in the very middle of the camper.
Howie and Bernie took up their spots on the couch. With ears attuned, Howie watched to see what Barney would do. Since Barney considered this part of his home, he simply jumped up on the couch and climbed over Bernie to get to his 'spot.'
Bernie was used to being submissive to Howie, so he simply moved aside. Howie, on the other hand, was perturbed. He raised his lip and started to growl.
The ever-watching Mistress called out to him, "Howie! This isn't your house. You have to ask permission from Barney."
Howie was confused. Ask permission? He was the alpha dog. Why on earth would he ask permission? He glanced towards Barney and was surprised at what he saw.
Barney was giving him a peace offering. He nudged a chew bone towards Howie. Tentatively, Howie took a sniff. Oh my! The aroma was alluring. Gingerly, Howie nipped the end of the offering and pulled it towards him and took it to the opposite side of the couch. Peace between the dogs was made, and the whole room started to move.
| Author Notes |
photo taken by the author
I think the dogs had their own perspective of the trip to see the eclipse. We really didn't travel far; we simply stayed at an RV park about five miles away. The past tense of 'ah' is 'ahed.' Hard to believe, but I looked it up on Hippo.com. |
By Mustang Patty
Dream sequence in green:
Cool bathroom tiles gave him some comfort from the unrelenting heat. He was lying with his tummy on the floor and his feet pushed out to the sides. Too tired to even wag his tail, Bernie let himself snooze. His thoughts, as he drifted in dreamland, were about the beloved Mistress. He knew she was safe, and that was all that really mattered.
One of the best parts about the world that came to him during sleep was the bounty of treats. Tasty morsels grew on low branches of trees, and littered flower beds. Bernie only needed to graze from place to place to satisfy his constant need. Treats meant love, and the only thing missing from these delectable biscuits, were the comforting hands of the Mistress.
Within seconds of thinking about her, she showed up in this pleasant world. Wearing her pajamas and lying in a soft bed, she beckoned to him. Dropping the treat in his mouth, he rushed towards her. At least he tried to rush to; it seemed that no matter how fast he moved his feet, the elusive mattress remained across the room.
Suddenly, blackness descended over the scene, and he felt the cold bathroom floor beneath him.
Slowly opening his eyes, and mourning the loss of the dream, Bernie was awake. Howie's feet were right in front of his face, and a favorite toy rolled into his nose.
The luxurious tail Howie spent so many hours cleaning, and the Mistress brushed every day, was wagging furiously, and Howie's tongue hung out. Seeing that his actions woke Bernie, he growled his playful voice and invited Bernie to play.
Resigned to the loss of the dream, Bernie gathered his feet underneath him, and pushed himself to stand. Still feeling the effects of the sleep-inducing heat, he stretched fore and aft. As his head cleared, his grey and tawny, plumed tail wagged in anticipation of Howie's next move.
Well loved, and showing signs of constant play, the ball rolled on the floor. Bernie nudged it with his nose in Howie's direction. Before Howie could react, Bernie jumped forward and picked the ball up and ran.
Hot on his trail, Howie pursued his little brother with his tiny legs flying. Growls and snarls filled the house as the two dogs ran the circuit of the rooms. As always, the chase ended up in the living room. Using the couch as a buffer, both dogs held their ground at either end. It only took a small move, and the chase was on again.
"Really guys? Isn't it too hot to chase each other? Until the maintenance man comes to fix the air conditioner, I only have the fans to keep me cool," the Mistress stated, as she moved the paper accordion back and forth in front of her face.
At the sound of the Mistress's voice, Bernie lost interest in the game. Jumping up on the couch, he placed his head under her hand. Slowly, she began to pet him, and her fingers slipped to the lovely spot behind his ear. In canine heaven, Bernie nestled into her hand.
"Is it really true that this spot releases doggy endorphins? You certainly look like it, little dog."
Basking in the attention, Bernie wasn't paying any attention to Howie. Howie was content with his beloved ball, and the little dog on the couch was in his favorite place in the world.
Maybe real life was better than the dream world. But it would be nice if the Mistress gave him a treat.
| Author Notes |
photo of Howie and his beautiful tail, taken by the author
Though Bernie was the main character in the story, Howie was okay with that, but only if I featured a picture of just him. |
By Mustang Patty
| Author Notes |
This is my first attempt at this poetic form - please be kind and constructive in your criticism.
Apparently, there will be a new Bernie and Howie story tomorrow; the boys informed me that a poem is NOT enough tribute. Bookend Monorhyme In the spirit of the Pantygynt, the Sapphonic Triad, the Sonnetino, and the Lyricat; I'd like to introduce you to another new style. Bookend Monorhyme is an awesome form created by our fellow FanStorian, BeasPeas. Here is the form described in her own words: This is a Bookend Monorhyme poem, a form I created in 2016 by accident when I wrote two poems on the same topic and liked them both so I combined them into one. It consists of a 4-syllable line monorhyme and an 11-syllable line monorhyme. The two poems should be able to stand alone, but relate to each other in some way. Thank you to Jannypan for naming this form. 2 lines - 4 syllables 4 lines - 11 syllables 2 lines - 4 syllables |
By Mustang Patty
Bernie sat on the couch watching the Mistress and the Man with great interest. They were bringing all sorts of boxes into the living room. There were one long box and almost a dozen others in all different sizes. Some of them jingled, others rattled, and a few were quiet.
Howie remained curled up nose to tail on the couch. Bernie knew Howie was paying attention to what was going on because his eyes were open, and his eyebrows raised occasionally. Still, Howie was content to watch from his chair, and Bernie was just itching to stick his nose into each box.
The Mistress was smiling broadly, and the Man was laughing with her. They bantered back and forth happily. Tail a' wag, Bernie knew something unusual was going on, but he couldn't guess what it might be. There was music playing, which wasn't unusual, but it was somehow different. The tunes sounded happy and full of joy. There were extended portions where the music soared without any people singing. The Mistress was humming along, and occasionally, she would sing some words.
Wagging his tail and moving closer to the Mistress, Bernie waited for her to lean down to pat his head. When she patted his head, he took the opportunity to lick her wrist. So happy to be near her, no matter what it was she was doing, Bernie found himself dancing on his front legs and moaning in tune with the Mistress's voice.
The Man started laughing. He reached over and ruffled the hair atop Howie's head. "Do you believe those two, Howie? Why on earth do they always get so silly?"
Wagging his tail at the mention of his name, Howie fastened his eyes on Man's face. It was nice in the days the Man didn't have to get out of bed so early and get dressed and leave. Some days, both the Mistress and the Man would stay in their robes, drink lots of that dark stuff they liked so much, and talk and cuddle on the couch. Howie and Bernie always tried to get in between them, but after being pushed away several times, they finally settled in on either side of their humans.
Finally, the Man pulled out a big green thing from the biggest box. He stood it up over by the window, and the Mistress oohed and ahed. She clapped and jumped up and down a little when he plugged something in, and the green thing was full of tiny lights. The Mistress moved close to the Man and threw her arms around his neck.
Howie and Bernie stood together and watched their people. Bernie's tail was wagging so fast it just looked like a grey blur, and Howie placed his front paws in front of him and wiggled his hindquarters in the air. He sounded his play bark and demanded some attention.
Laughing, the Man took Howie's favorite ball and threw it down the hall. Howie took off like a flash; determined to beat Bernie, he ran as fast as his short legs would allow. When Bernie bounded close by and made a grab for the object of Howie's affection, his growl could be heard throughout the house.
Hearing the music turned up, the dogs returned to the living room as the Mistress took more things out of the boxes. Soon, the green of the tree was covered with many items. Some of them jingled, and some of them just reflected the lights, but it all looked pretty.
Putting away their squabble over the ball, Howie and Bernie lay on the floor staring at the lights in peace and harmony. Both tails thumped as the Mistress looked over at them.
"Look, Hon. It's just as it should be. Christmas brings peace and goodwill to all – even puppies."
Hugging her to his side, the Man looked down at his wife, and said, "If only everyone had peace. Then this would be the most wonderful Christmas of all."
| Author Notes |
photo taken by the Author
Even though we will be packing everything up when January comes, I couldn't spend a holiday season without a tree. |
By Mustang Patty
"Did you hear that?" Bernie growled at Howie.
"What? Are you back to being 'super guard dog' again? I didn't hear anything. Shut up and lay down."
"Pipe down. You know it's my job to guard the Mistress and all of her stuff."
"Well, it's my job to lay here and make sure the couch doesn't go anywhere. You doing your job is interfering with me doing mine."
Bernie reluctantly lay back down. He was sure he heard something. "There it is again. Surely you heard it this time, didn't you?"
Howie's cream-colored ears flicked towards the obvious sound. "Shhh. Don't let them hear you. Maybe if we just lay low, they won't see us."
"What are you talking about? We can't 'lay low.' We're supposed to be guarding the house!"
The fur along Bernie's ruff stood at attention. His nose was quivering as he tried to identify an alien smell in his territory. Tulip ears tuned to his surroundings. Bernie was going to prove to Howie that he was the most fabulous guard dog in world history.
Familiar noises seemed to be coming from the direction of the Mistress's bathroom down the hall. Walking with a wooden gait, and growling with each step, Bernie approached the room.
"Howie! Come here. You aren't going to believe this," Bernie sputtered.
A heavy sigh came from the tawny dog. Howie pulled himself from the couch and went to see what Bernie was making such a fuss about. The closer he got to where Bernie was, the stronger the scent of the intruder. He knew that smell.
"Oh, no. It can't be," Howie said to no one in particular.
Both dogs peered over the baby gate put across the doorway to the bathroom. They stared in disbelief at the little tiny creature.
"Look boys! We got you a new brother. You guys will have so much fun playing in the yard together," the Mistress enthused.
Howie shook his head in disbelief. He had never okayed the decision about Bernie, and no one consulted him about this new…whatever its name was. He stared at the Mistress. His underbite was more prominent than usual.
"Oh, Howie. Don’t look like that. You will still get your fair share of cuddles, treats, and… Howie, get back here. I was talking to you."
Howie returned to the couch and planned his running away from home.
| Author Notes |
NO - I am not really getting another puppy. The Man forbids it. But, he forbade Bernie coming into our lives, too.
|
By Mustang Patty
Bernie turned his tawny head in the direction of the second bedroom in the house. There was the occasional thump of cardboard on the carpeted floor and the sound of books coming off the shelves. He recognized these noises over the past few days. For a while, he would scurry into the room to see what was going on. After all, this was a new development; but only for the first few days.
Howie didn't seem to care at all. He continued to sleep and even curled into a tighter ball as he moved farther and farther under the blankets. Bernie ascertained this was because Howie had heard the books plopping into boxes so many times before. The last time the books went into boxes was over eighteen months ago, and Bernie rarely remembered anything longer than maybe a month.
The only thing that held Bernie's interest now was that the Mistress was in that other room. All his protective instincts told him he should be with her. But, whenever he got in the way, or put one of his toys in a box, she seemed to get angry with him. Bernie didn't like to be in the Mistress's bad graces, so he was keeping his distance.
Gently licking his forefeet, he contemplated what was going on around him. There were boxes in every room. Each piece of brown cardboard had lettering on it. He had no idea what 'U-Haul' stood for, but in his doggy mind, he figured it meant 'No dogs allowed.' He tested his theory by trying to jump in one of the receptacles. The Mistress promptly picked him up and shooed him out of the room.
A troubled scowl settled over the usually cute doggy face. He didn't understand why the Mistress wasn't spending time in front of the screen thingy. She usually spent several hours each morning staring at the screen and then tapping on the bottom pieces. Wasn't that her job?
Howie did a stretch while lying on his side. He put his front feet out as far as he could, while simultaneously doing the same thing with his back feet. Even his tail was stretched up with the curl straight. Dozy eyes focused on Bernie. The tail began a slow wag, and Bernie knew he was in for a Howie trick. Bernie sighed deeply. He didn't have time for this.
A low growl started to emanate from the cream-colored dog. Howie's eyes were dancing, and he was looking at the coveted and contentious ball. This item never failed to start a good row, and it seemed Howie was intent on some mid-morning play.
Bernie couldn't resist, and he pounced on the ball in an attempt to aggravate his housemate. Howie's growl grew louder and more intense. He jumped off the couch, too. The inevitable chase began in earnest. Round and round the couch, into the kitchen, across the floor into the Mistress's bedroom, and out again. Wanting to show the Mistress he was winning, Bernie ran into the second bedroom.
As the Mistress began to laugh, Bernie's tail wag increased in intensity. He forgot about the chase and stood still to absorb the pleasant sound. Bernie loved to make the Mistress happy, and he could tell he had succeeded.
Howie rushed into the room and spoiled the moment. He grabbed the ball from Bernie's grasp. He darted out of place with delight and Bernie had no other choice but to follow. He looked to the Mistress, and she indicated with her hand for him to go.
Smiling from ear to ear, Bernie dashed after his pal, Howie. There was nothing better in life than a happy Mistress and an excellent battle for the ball. It was a good day.
| Author Notes |
photo of Howie taken by the Author
This was the compromise; the story was from Bernie's POV, and the picture is of Howie. |
By Mustang Patty
New creaks, smells, and rooms waited to be explored. Bernie only wanted to stay by the Mistress's side. With his tulip ears pitched forward, he could hear the clickety-clack of Howie's nails on the floor, but still, he remained on the couch.
Bernie's mind was swirling with images and sounds, but nothing seemed to make sense. It seemed just a few days ago when early one morning, the Mistress had taken him and Howie for a ride. They went to see their friends in the building with other dogs and the screeching bird in the lobby. Bernie was used to the Mistress handing over his leash to his friend, Maggie, but it looked like she had tears in her eyes. His little doggy brain started to hurt.
Maggie took him and Howie to their big room with the comfy beds and toys in the kennel. Bernie especially liked the window at the end of the room. Watching the cars whiz by was fun, but he wasn't happy if people walked across the lawn. That was his lawn; didn't they know that?
After a few days, their time at the kennel was over and Bernie and Howie said their goodbyes to Maggie and ran into the Mistress's loving arms. It was a fun reunion and the Mistress gave Bernie a big treat with the hug. He thought everything would go back to normal. But he was wrong.
Turning his thoughts to the present, Bernie was happy to be snuggled next to the Mistress on the familiar couch. She was busy with the screen thing – as always – but this was kind of comforting. He just didn't know this place. All of the furniture he was used to was here, along with the piles of boxes the Mistress put together at home, but why were they here?
Howie came to the edge of the couch with his tail wagging. In his mouth was his favorite ball. He had found it in one of the rooms, and he gleefully brought it to the Mistress. Bernie couldn't figure out how Howie could be so happy. Didn't he know they were lost?
Curled tightly into himself, Bernie's nose was next to his tail. His eyebrows were the only movements he made as he contemplated deep doggy thoughts. Maybe he wasn't lost…the Mistress was here, and his food and toys were here. Howie was here, too. Could this be where he belonged?
Lifting his golden-tawny head from his paws and stretching his neck, he untangled his back paws from the front and pulled himself to a standing position. With a quick lick of the Mistress's hand, he jumped down from the couch. It was the time he found out what this place was all about.
The hard floor beneath his feet continued all throughout the house. He wasn't sure if he liked it. Jumping onto the bed or couch was difficult with nothing to get traction from. Following his nose, he found the room with the food and water for Howie and him. He casually grabbed a mouthful and continued his exploration.
The huge screen was in the room with a hole that smelled like smoke. That was the room where the couch was, and Bernie felt safest there. He found another place with all of the Mistress's books. Some of them were placed on the shelves, and others were still in boxes. Some new furniture was in that area, and his nose led him farther down the hall.
Howie was in the next room, and he was happily rolling on the big bed. He woofed at Bernie and invited him to come and play. Bernie watched as Howie wagged his butt and tail in the air, barking like a child's laugh.
Never one to back down from a challenge, Bernie rushed onto the soft comforter. He grabbed at Howie's short little legs with his mouth and growled softly. Howie returned with grabs at Bernie's throat, and together their little growls sounded like a baby dogfight.
Pretty soon, both dogs were tired, and Howie curled himself into a little ball of taupe fir. Bernie licked his front paws one at a time and kept his ears tuned for the sounds of the Mistress's tapping.
Finally, Bernie lay his head down not too far from Howie, and his eyes began to close. This place was where he belonged; he wasn't lost – he was home.
| Author Notes |
photo taken by the Author
Bernie and Howie are very happy with the new house; now that the rain has stopped - they get to play in the yard this afternoon! |
By Mustang Patty
Most days it didn’t take much to keep Bernie happy; the warmth of a blanket, the coziness of the couch, and a gentle caress from the Mistress. A treat now and then throughout the day didn’t hurt, and good kibble in his bowl all contributed to his usual state of being content.
For the past week, Bernie felt sad. There were still treats now and then, and the Mistress would distractedly caress his ears. The couch was still comfy, and the Mistress was willing to share her blankets with Howie and him. But everything was different.
Water leaked from the eyes of the Mistress. When the Man came home at night, they ate dinner quietly. The television hadn’t been on for days. When the Mistress wasn’t on the couch, she was pecking at the black thing on her desk. She looked at the big lighted thing on her desk, rubbed her face, and then went back to pecking.
Bernie decided to distract the Mistress and have some fun. Tugging on Howie’s ear, he ran around excitedly. Barking and growling, he nipped and pulled at his brother. When Howie finally stood, Bernie dove for his legs. He caught the farther of Howie’s forelegs and braced himself. Howie fell clumsily onto his side.
With Howie down for a bit, Bernie strategically placed himself behind the other dog. Lunging from the rear, wolf fashion, he caught Howie by the base of the neck. Howie yelped, and finally, the two dogs had the full attention of the Mistress.
“Boys! Stop it, will you? I’ve got a monster headache. I need to get motivated, and you guys aren’t helping at all.”
Sitting on his haunches, Bernie carefully watched the Mistress’ face. He only understood about one-hundred, fifty words in total, but he knew a great deal about tone. The Mistress wasn’t truly mad at either he or Howie. She was upset about something else entirely.
Bernie wondered if it had anything to do with the new thing in the house. When the Mistress came and picked him up from the place with the cages, there was a new smell in the house. The careful investigation brought Bernie to the hearth of the fireplace. The smell was coming from up above.
Backing up, Bernie positioned himself on the couch to see what was up above the bricks. A container with a new and different smell sat in the middle of the wall. He was very curious, and he tried to get Howie to look at it, too.
Howie’s growls came abruptly. Bernie woke him up from a deep sleep. Howie lay his head back down and tried to close his eyes, but Bernie wouldn’t let him. Bernie continued to lick Howie’s face until Howie deserted his nap and the comfort of the chair.
Howie stretched out his forepaws, and with his tail in the air, he extended his body and yawned. Bernie continued to watch out for signs that his tawny brother would return to his chair and nap. But Howie went to their bowls for a drink of water, picked up his Kong toy and returned to the living room. Bernie sat in the middle of the living room floor and stared up at the container.
Finally, Howie got a whiff of the strange smell. He did his investigation and then joined Bernie in the staring game. Usually, this strange action would call the Mistress’ attention to whatever they were staring at in the room.
It took some time, but when the Mistress took a break from her desk, she walked past the living room to the kitchen. She came back to the doorway and looked at the two dogs. She focused her attention on the container, and a small gasp escaped her lips.
Bernie turned his attention to the Mistress as she came into the living room and approached the bricks. She picked up the container and kissed it.
Bernie and Howie both pricked up their ears and continued to watch the Mistress carefully. Howie stood on his back feet and waved his forefeet in the air.
“I know, I know. You want to know what this is and why it’s here, right? Well… Boys, this is my good friend, Aldo. You never met the person, but this is his final remains. He went to Heaven, and this is all I have left of my friend.
“He saw lots of pictures of you guys and read the stories I sent to him. He was glad I had you guys to keep me company. You see, he worried about me just like Dave does. Oh, excuse me – like ‘the Man’ does.”
And just like that, the sadness left Bernie’s heart. The Mistress was laughing as she bent down and petted both he and Howie. “Hey, let’s go out for a walk, okay?”
| Author Notes | photo of Bernie taken by the Author |
By Mustang Patty
Howie would be the first to tell you he has a soft life. He would tell you that if he could talk, but he is just a little dog, and we all know that dogs can’t talk. His sturdy little body which comes partly from a Maltese and partly from a Pekingese keeps him limber. His cream-colored fur started out much darker in his puppyhood, but now there is only a stray dark hair here and there.
Early this morning, Howie found his favorite toy on the way back from getting a drink of water. He didn’t care it was only three o’clock in the morning, or that his Mistress was sleeping. He only cared about pushing the ball down the hallway in soccer like fashion. It bounced from one wall to the other, and finally, the noise woke up both the Mistress and his little brother, Bernie.
Howie’s tail wagged mischievously. At best, he tolerated Bernie, but he did love to torment the daft dog. Bernie jumped from the bed and ran towards Howie and the ball. Howie let Bernie get just close enough to think he had a chance to grab the ball, and then Howie would growl viciously and lay his whole body on the ball.
Their game went on while the Mistress got up, washed her face, brushed her teeth and started a pot of coffee. Finally, the Mistress voiced her opinion on their activity. “You boys are going to make me older than my years. I can’t get any rest around here. If it isn’t the characters from my stories keeping me awake, it is the two of you playing some loud and stupid game. Give me the ball, Howie.”
Howie looked up at the Mistress and wagged his little tail. His eyes told her to throw the ball for him, but when she tried to get the ball, the deep, scary growl came out.
“If you want me to play with you, you have to give it up,” croaked the Mistress. It was still in the middle of the night for her. Bernie quickly went to her side, and she cooed and talked baby-talk to him.
Howie was sickened, and if he were a person, he would have made gagging noises. With a daintiness a boy dog shouldn’t display, he picked up his ball and went towards the bedroom. When the Mistress got out of bed this morning, she straightened the covers and grabbed her water and phone. She wasn’t going back to bed anytime soon.
With deep sorrow, Howie looked at the big, soft bed. He missed the Man. He was away somewhere, and all Howie knew was that usually when the Mistress got up early in the morning and went and made clickety noises in her pretty room with all the books, the Man would lay in the bed. Howie loved it when it was just the two of them. He could push his nose against Man’s hand and roll over on his back. The Man would rub his belly and tell him funny stories. It didn’t matter that Howie could only understand a word here and there. No, what mattered was the loving attention. Bernie was usually with the Mistress, and it was the Man and Howie.
It had been several mornings and evenings since the Mistress was alone with the dogs. Without fail, each evening, Bernie and Howie would listen for the garage door to open. That was the signal that the Man was home. On the nights he did come home, Bernie barked at the Man even though he knew who he was. Bernie was stupid that way.
If Howie could count, he would know that it was day five of the Man’s business trip. But, little dogs can’t count, and so Howie just knew it was forever.
With a deep doggy sigh, Howie lay down in the doorway of the bedroom. The Mistress thought he looked pitiful and she tried to entice him with a treat. While Bernie swallowed without chewing, Howie just put his on the floor in front of his nose. Dejected, he was determined to show the Mistress his deep sorrow.
The Mistress’s phone made the distinctive chirp that usually came about the same time every day. She called Howie to her side, and she held the phone to his ear. Howie’s ears perked up. The Man was on the phone! He used his paws to try finding the object of his desire. There wasn’t the familiar smell, but the voice was there and saying his name. The Mistress took the phone away from his ear and continued her conversation.
Howie returned to his vigil at the bedroom doorway. A spark of hope was in his little doggy heart. The Man would be back—someday.
| Author Notes |
photo of Howie taken by the Author, 3/19/18
While I tend to think the dogs are 'mine,' Howie really does favor Dave. I think he resents me because I don't throw his ball as much as he would like. There was also a period of time when Howie got to ride with Dave on the road when Dave was driving truck. The bonds they formed then have endured. Thank you so much for reading! |
By Mustang Patty
Bernie was determined to be the Mistress’s favorite. All morning Howie had been doing his cutsie little begging trick. He would stand on his back feet and wave his front paws. It was something Maltese dogs could do. Bernie was part Maltese too. He couldn’t do the trick, and on days like today, it bothered him.
Bernie snuggled as close to the Mistress as he could. He used his nose to nudge her arm up and around his neck. Using the tip of his tongue, he licked her hand. When the Mistress started to giggle, he knew he made headway into the deep recesses of her heart.
Suddenly, along came his big brother. Howie jumped up on the couch and put his wet muzzle in the Mistress’s face. He began to lick her on the nose. Bernie was forgotten as the Mistress pushed Howie away and began to laugh. She ruffled Howie’s silky ears and crooned to him in her doggy voice.
Bernie felt his little heart hurt. He started to do his best to talk in a human voice. The groans and growls caught the attention of the Mistress. She put out her hand to caress his ears. Placing her fingers at the base of his ears, she scratched on his favorite spot, and Bernie went to doggie Heaven.
If only Howie weren’t here... If only Howie couldn’t do that begging thing… If only he were an only dog. While the Mistress continued to rub that special place behind his ear, he put his forefeet out in front of him and lowered himself down on the couch. He put the weight of his head in her hand and closed his eyes. Within a few minutes, he fell into a snoozing state. He rarely went into a deep sleep. As the official watchdog, he had to protect the Mistress.
Howie curled up on the Mistress’s chest, and Bernie snuggled close to her side. While her right hand stayed busy with Bernie’s ears, she used her free left hand to grab the coffee cup from the end table. She found herself in the coziest place in the house, and she turned her attention to the TV as both dogs took a snooze.
A knock on the front door disturbed the idyllic scene. Both dogs were barking and jumping up and down. Bernie frantically ran between the door and the Mistress. He watched her get up from the couch and take a look out the window. He was confused; there wasn’t a knock on the window. The knock came from the door. Didn’t she know that?
When the Mistress saw the mail truck parked in front of the house, she knew she didn’t need to go to the door. The mailman would leave the package, and she could get it later. She hated to open the front door and take the chance one of the dogs would get excited and run out, or worse, bite the mailman.
Before the Mistress could grab another cup of coffee, both dogs were back on the couch. They strategically placed themselves to wrangle all the attention. There was one big problem. The Mistress didn’t have anywhere to sit.
“Do you guys want a treat?”
Both dogs jumped off the couch and went into the den. They knew the treats were on the Mistress’s desk. Dancing around her feet, they each took a treat when it was offered. Bernie stood there patiently hoping he might beseech her to give him another just by looking cute. But, just like always, it didn’t work.
Grabbing her coffee from the desk, the Mistress went back to the couch. With the dogs displaced, she could get into her spot in the far corner of the couch. Placing her cup on the end table, she patted the cushions beside her. Bernie jumped up and made himself comfortable under her arm.
Howie went to the ottoman of Man’s chair. He turned around five times and finally laid his head on his tail. He licked his lips, and he settled down for a deep sleep.
Bernie felt content to sit and watch the TV with the Mistress. Maybe he was the favorite after all.
| Author Notes |
photo taken by the Author
I realized I hadn't written a Howie and Bernie story on here for some time, so I watched the boys vying for my attention this morning and thought it might amuse some of you. Thank you for reading this little doggie story. |
By Mustang Patty
Bernie lay on the back of the couch. He was bored. He had already cleaned his paws and tried to tame the fur on his tail. He wished the Mistress wasn’t in the den pecking away at her desk. The noises coming from that room were confusing. The clatter came in bursts and pauses. What on earth was she doing?
By moving his head slightly, Bernie could see his companion and brother, Howie. The tawny dog was stretched out on the little couch. The small couch that sat in front of the chair always confused Bernie. Why didn't it have any big things sticking up like this couch? Bernie loved this couch. The Mistress always sat in the same corner, with her arm up on the big thing sticking up. When she was in her place, Bernie would curl up behind her on the soft back of the couch. When he sat behind her, he could smell the beautiful things she used on her hair.
In his boredom, Bernie was very reflective. He wondered how he could convince the Mistress to come out of that room? Wouldn’t it be lovely if she would give him a bath? The warm water and the Mistress’s touch all over his body just made him so happy. He especially liked it when she used the big, soft cloth to make his fur dry.
Bernie was thinking so hard, it made his head hurt. What could he do? There had to be something he could do so the Mistress would have to give him a bath. But, what was it?
| Author Notes |
photo taken by the Author
|
By Mustang Patty
The little dog, who sometimes looked like a child in bad need of a hairbrush, licked his front paws. He wasn't concentrating on the task. It was just something to do while he worked out a problem in his head.
Something was very wrong. The Mistress didn't spend too much time in the room with all the books. She was much more grumpy than usual, and both he and Howie were on their best behavior.
He raised his little face, which was framed by fur which went every which way. His deep brown eyes bespoke of a kind and wise soul. And while he didn't always act it, he was very wise for just a little dog. Bernie took a long look at the Mistress.
She was sitting in her favorite spot on the couch. The table on her left, littered with books, held her big cup of water and was well within reach for her to sip. Everything seemed normal, except...
Bernie was trying so hard, but he couldn't place it. Wait. Where was the cup she always carried? It was too early for her to be with the big, blue, water cup. The Man just left for work. What was going on here?
Could this be what was wrong? Was this the reason for the Mistress's distress? What could he do?
Howie was deep asleep on the ottoman and Bernie knew he would stir the tawny dog's anger if he woke him up, but this was an emergency. Using his long nose to nudge the other dog, Bernie was careful to stay away from the little tawny dog's face. Howie was known to snap without warning.
Bernie nudged, and took a step back, and repeated the process until the other dog finally looked up. Howie blinked his eyes to clear them, and then he focused on Bernie. A small growl came from his throat, and he was clearly displeased.
Using every bit of doggy sign language he knew, Bernie tried to tell Howie what he figured out.
The Mistress needs coffee, STAT!
Howie raised his head. He looked at the table next to the Mistress and shuddered. There was another time when the coffee cup went away. It was a long time ago, but Howie still remembered. It was a dark time. There were no treats and no cuddles.
Howie nudged Bernie towards the big bed in the other room. Bernie followed Howie reluctantly because he couldn't see how this would help the situation. Once they were both onboard, Howie's actions just confused him more.
The little tawny dog used his nose to move the blankets and then, he burrowed under the covers. He yipped for Bernie to follow him. The two dogs retreated from the disaster at hand.
| Author Notes |
photo of Bernie; both he and Howie are going to the groomer at the end of the week. They need it.
Both dogs are very concerned... |
By Mustang Patty
| Author Notes |
photo of Bernie taken last year
Rispetto A Rispetto, an Italian form of poetry, is a complete poem of two rhyme quatrains with a strict meter. The meter is usually iambic tetrameter with a rhyme scheme of abab ccdd. A Heroic Rispetto is written in Iambic pentameter, usually featuring the same rhyme scheme. I'm using eight syllables per line with the rhyme scheme of abab ccdd. The meter is supposed to be strict, and I will do my best. |
By Mustang Patty
They say that an old dog can't be taught new tricks,
but I don't believe that's true.
I'm sure I could learn to love you,
and only you.
I'm seeking a female dog, (spayed or not),
to share my life. I like long walks,
me and the Mistress have little talks.
Sometimes she takes me in the car,
but we don't go too far...
I drink only filtered water,
please don't give me anything else,
and before we go much farther,
We should talk about smells.
My poop can stink up the house,
I'm pee-pad trained, you see,
Before you become my spouse,
You'd need to promise me...
Tell the Mistress the poop
In the car was You,
Make your ears droop,
What's a little poo?
The Mistress and the Man
are the very best.
They put food in my pan,
they let me rest.
There's just one thing
that could sour this deal,
I have a little brother,
Who I'd like to smother.
Help me put him away
Then you can stay
And play every day
Come what may
Are you looking for a new home?
Or somewhere to play?
Give me a call...
Together, we'll roam
We'll put my brother in the closet,
Just like a bad deposit
He won't bother us anymore,
Me and you - my amore
| Author Notes |
Thank you for reading
(I did not realize this was a poetry contest - so this has been edited to fit the form. The prose version was much better and funnier.) |
By Mustang Patty
I put together an anthology of my favorite Howie and Bernie stories.
The Kindle edition is available for pre-orders and will be released on October 29, 2018.
The paperback edition will be available in November 2018.
These stories will make a great addition to any child's library. Of course, you all know, these stories are for kids of all ages!
I am so proud of this book. I wrote it in time for Christmas release so I could give a copy to my grandchildren and great nieces and nephews.
Without the support of my FanStory family, this book wouldn't have been a reality.
(The first five reviewers will receive a free copy of the Kindle edition, and all I ask in return is that you review the work on Amazon.com.)
I will contact you by email to ensure you receive your copy.
~Mustang Patty~
| Author Notes | photo of the actual Kindle edition cover |
By Mustang Patty
Before the Mistress even got the patio door open, Bernie tried to squeeze out into the backyard. It seemed as though it happened overnight, but the entire yard was full of color. Every tree lost many of its colored leaves as the harsh winds blew through the Willamette Valley.
Howie and Bernie ran all over the yard with their noses on full alert. The leaves smelled wonderful. Bernie could detect the subtle odor of his buddy, Mr. Squirrel, but at the moment, he was more focused on the wonderful crunch every step made on the carpet of leaves.
The Mistress was bundled up in her big flannel shirt and had put on socks for the first time this season. Her hands were wrapped around the mug she held. She watched the little dogs running to and fro with a slight smile on her lips. Bernie had leaves in his mouth, twigs entwined in his tail and his raucous barking was scaring the few birds on the fence.
Howie couldn't get enough of the thrill of the leaves, so he threw himself on the ground and started rolling in the smell and sounds. With his short little legs in the air, he made sounds much like a motorcycle trying to get started in the cold of winter.
Both dogs watched despondently as the Mistress walked inside. They looked at one another. How long would she let them stay in the yard if she was inside? Bernie ran to the other side of the yard as fast as he could. If she couldn't see him from the glass door, he was safe.
Surprisingly, the Mistress returned with a long thing on a stick. She didn't have her cup with her, but instead, there was something covering her hands. Then the thing on a stick started dragging the crunchy things towards her. Both dogs watched curiously.
The Mistress moved about a few feet of yard constantly moving the stick thing. Suddenly, there was a big pile of color at her feet. Howie ran over to it excitedly. Without too much thought, he jumped into the mound of crunchy, wonderful leaves.
Bernie stood for a moment with his head cocked to one side. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out what Howie was doing. When his brother was completely covered with leaves, he hurried over. Howie needed saving!
When Howie saw his little brother approach his pile of fun, he began to growl and then he started running in excited circles. As he ran, he would put his head down and throw the crunchy leaves in the air.
Bernie jumped forward and was delighted to find his legs covered. He felt the urge to throw himself down and luxuriate in the feeling.
Watching them from her chair, the Mistress smiled. Life was good, and fall had arrived in her backyard.
| Author Notes |
picture of fall leaves from Pinterest
pictures of Howie and Bernie taken by the Mistress |
|
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