Chet The Dog

Posts Tagged ‘desert’

Worrisome Message

Memo to all departments:

Bernie Little of the Little Detective Agency and his dog Chet are overdue from a Memorial Day Weekend hike in the eastern desert and are now considered missing. 

signed,

Rick Torres, Sgt., Valley PD Missing Persons

Outta Here

Guess what. It’s a holiday weekend. That’s what Bernie says. Not Christmas, a holiday where I’ve had some problems on account of my tail and tree ornaments. Not Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday for reasons I probably don’t have to explain. But all that food! No, this is something else, and we’re going hiking in the desert. Bernie wants to see some rock art he’s heard about, left over from the Indians. Or something like that. Also he wants to get away from technology, whatever that is. 

“C’mo, Chet. What are you doing?”

See you after the holiday. 

Zoom.

Mother’s Day

I’ll get to all that’s been happening, or maybe some of it, but first – today is Sunday. How do I know? Elvis gospel on the radio. “Crazy times,” Bernie says. “I like XM/Sirius but the whole satellite radio business plan may be obsolete already.” No idea what he’s talking about. Right now they’re playing Milky White Way, my favorite.

It’s also Mother’s Day. Kind of confusing, two days at the same time. I’ll just have to run around faster. Bernie’s calling his mom. I’ve met her once: a piece of work. She lives somewhere far away with a new husband, or an even newer one. He puts her on speaker while he tries to get the coffee maker to work. 

“Hi, Mom. Happy Mother’s Day.”

“Thanks, Kiddo.” Bernie’s mom has a raspy voice, the kind humans get after they’ve been smoking for a long time. She calls Bernie kiddo – what’s up with that?

“How’s everything?”

“Don’t ask.”

“Is there some problem?”

“Don’t you read the papers, Kiddo? There’s nothing but problems.”

“How’s Phil?”

“A pain in the ass. Aren’t you, Phil?” A man in the background says something I can’t make out.

“Any plans to come  this way?” Bernie says.

“Hate the desert – you know that.”

“You’re always welcome.”

“Who taught you to lie so smoothly?”

“We both know the answer to that one,” Bernie says. She laughs, a hacking kind of laugh. Bernie laughs too. They laugh together for a bit. “Bye, Mom.”

“Bye, Kiddo.” 

 

Ukulele

Bernie plays the ukulele. He has a real nice one that he loves. Once we had to pawn it at Mr. Singh’s, not a good day. I think that’s in Thereby Hangs A Tail, which comes after Dog On It, but Bernie says not to mention it on account of being so far in the future, so I won’t. When It’s Sleepy Time Down South is my favorite, but I also like Stardust and Up A Lazy River. We have rivers here in the Valley – and out in the desert, too – but they’re all dry. Bernie says that when Coronado came through here some of them flowed year-round. Bernie’s no fan of Coronado. Who is Coronado, exactly? Kind of a mystery, but that’s what we do, me and Bernie, solve mysteries. It’s pretty clear Coronado’s some kind of perp, meaning one day I’ll be grabbing him by the pantleg. Case closed.