Posts Tagged ‘Chet The Dog’

A Good Day

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April 13th, 2009 Posted 6:54 am

All days are pretty good to my way of thinking, but Bernie says there’s lots of nice news today. First, he’s real happy about Captain Phillips and the Navy. Bernie fought in the Army – there’s stuff on that in Thereby Hangs A Tail – and he’s always interested in military news. This story’s all about pirates. They’re hijackers. We’ve taken down a few hijackers, me and Bernie, but never at sea. I swam in the ocean once, on our trip to San Diego. And was I on a surfboard? Yes! 

Second, President Obama is finally coming through with his promise. Welcome, Bo! He’s a Portuguese Water Dog. I knew one name of Parson. Talk about swimming! The only problem was that we were somehow in the pool at the Ritz, not sure how that happened. Not a good idea, for some reason, and when that concierge guy fell in things got worse in a hurry.

Tomorrow: Back to our story, although the details are getting a little …

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And Out

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April 4th, 2009 Posted 10:11 am

Way deep in the cave, the sounds of the rat scurrying away in the darkness, and then – what was that? A very strange feeling, like I wasn’t  moving but the earth under me was. I hate feelings like that – being on an elevator, for example, or even worse, an escalator. The escalator thing happened only once, perhaps a story for another time. Because right now the earth was moving under my feet, and then came this quiet boom.

“Chet! Run!” I turned, saw Bernie’s form framed in the opening of the cave. A rock fell from above, glanced off my tail. “Come on, Chet! Run!” I’m a good runner. I ran toward Bernie. Then came another boom, this one huge, and the next thing I knew we were rolling on the ground outside the cave, me and Bernie, dust boiling all around us. 

We got up, looked back. The cliff was still there but the hole was gone. There were just rocks, piles and piles of them. Then I noticed one other thing. That big flat metal can, shaped like a Frisbee? I seemed to have it in my mouth.

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In The Cave

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April 3rd, 2009 Posted 8:48 am

“Wait, Chet,” Bernie said. This was yesterday. We were outside this cave, or abandoned mine or whatever it was, somewhere in Death Valley. “There are no supports. Don’t go in there.” But I had to. I smelled a rat, one of those big desert rats. I don’t like them, not one little bit, don’t like their smell, either, which is kind of like mice except more sour, like they’re always eating something rotten. 

The next thing I knew, I was deep in the shaft, smelling the rat, and hearing him, too, scurrying on ahead of me. “Chet! Chet!” Bernie shone the light inside. I saw my own shadow, stretched out way ahead. And what was that? Uh-oh. A skull. A human skull, sitting straight up on the hard-packed ground. And beside it lay a can, a big flat kind of metal can, pretty much the shape of a Frisbee.

“Chet? What’s going on?”

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Death Valley Mysteries

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April 2nd, 2009 Posted 7:14 am

Kelo Printz, the Hollywood guy, is missing. We haven’t dug up the can of film yet, either, and there’s no sign of Mayer and Stroheim. Are they the perps? Is this now a missing person case? That’s our specialty at the Little Detective Agency, so much better than divorce work. We do a lot of that, too much, on account of our finances, which are a mess. There’s some divorce work in Dog On It, but mostly it’s about a missing girl. I still feel good about how that one ended, although the exact details are a bit fuzzy.

Right now we’re standing by this steep red cliff in Death Valley. There’s a big round hole in the side of the cliff, down at ground level. Bernie shines the flashlight inside. “Some crazy miner must have dug this long ago,” he says. “Didn’t even put in any support beams.”

I bark.

“What’s up, Chet? Smell something?”

I do.

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The Books



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