Chet The Dog

Posts Tagged ‘leaper’

A Thing Of Beauty

“Don’t you just love it?” says Spence.

“I do,” says Admin.

“Chet seems to love it, too.”

“From the way he’s eyeing it like that?”

“Yup. How about we try hanging it a little higher? On account of his leaping ability, and all.”

Yes, I love leaping, no doubt about it. But why would I want to nibble at this beautiful quilt, for example over here, where this tiny baseball seems to be sticking out, practically asking to be –

“Chet?”

Quilt Quote of the Day (from the back of the quilt): Scratch a dog and you’ll find a permanent job – Franklin P. Jones.

Request from Admin: Is there already a good photo of the quilt out there? David at Atria wants to see it and our photo capability quotient is low for the next day or two.

Chez Albie Rose (Revised)

Zoom! Up and over! There’s really nothing like a good high leap to make you feel tip-top. I landed lightly on the other side of Albie Rose’s gate, and what did I find right away? A tennis ball. I was just snapping it up when I heard a loud thump. I looked around and there was Bernie, also on this side of the gate, but lying on the ground, a big rip in his pants and kind of groaning. I dropped the tennis ball right away, went over and licked his face.

“Must have slightly misjudged something or other,” he said, and popped right up. And if not popping right up he at least got to his feet, leaning on me a bit. We’re a good team, me and Bernie. We turned and headed up toward Albie Rose’s house. No one around, but the front door was open.

Note from Admin: Quacky Baseball is a picture book written by PA and illustrated by Frank Morrison. It comes out Opening Day, 2011. PA is now writing a new middle-grade series (not Ingrid), set in NYC and slightly touched by the paranormal.

And don’t miss great puppy pics in yesterday’s comments section!

Tailing Bad Dudes

The old dusty van stopped by a loading dock way up ahead. Bernie pulled over behind a Dumpster. We got out of the Porsche, real quiet. Lonnie and the other dude were already up on the loading dock. Keys gleamed for a moment, a big door slid open and the dudes disappeared inside. We stepped out from behind the Dumpster, me and Bernie – there was fried chicken in that Dumpster, pretty recent, but I knew this wasn’t the time – and walked to the loading dock. It was about the height of Bernie’s head. He got up by climbing. Me? I’m not a bad leaper, as I might have mentioned already. The big door was closed but the lock hung open. Bernie slid the door a tiny bit. We peeked in the crack.