Dogs with Careers: Ten Happy-Ending Stories of Purpose and Passion

By Anne Hart

"They're library dogs, Charlie. They're all dog-faces," laughed the space station manager, as he waved goodnight to his security dogs and locked the gates. "They're not just dogs with jobs, but detective canines with investigative sniffing careers at the space station and in outer space."

At night, the space station's library is eerie, dim lighted, and in places, simply velvet-shadow dark, except for the human's dogs. They mingle with the shape-shifting immortal space dogs that prowl the space station library's corridors and live among the rows of computers.

Career dogs just want to have fun traveling onboard the space shuttles as working companion dogs, never locked behind gates. These dogs don't bite. They are dogs with purpose and passion.

This is a team of working dogs that can shape-shift from dog to human and human to dog live outside of time. And in this century, they work for a mother and daughter astronaut team.

"Which dog sprayed wolf graffiti on the space shuttle?" A ground controller dog, a mellow, Chocolate Labrador retriever, studied the photo. "But how did it get there?"

"Maybe it's a paste-on tattoo that the astronauts put on board to celebrate all those years here," the pack leader howled in a licorice-sweet yelp. The omega canine hurried to switch off another computer.

'Retriever,' formerly a "library greeter dog" but now the ground controller's pet, sniffed with curiosity. He stretched and curled up on top of the filing cabinet.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Oct 18, 2007
• ISBN: 9781532000232

Anne Hart

Popular author, writing educator, creativity enhancement specialist, and journalist, Anne Hart has written 82 published books (22 of them novels) including short stories, plays, and lyrics. She holds a graduate degree and is a member of the American Society of Journalists and Authors and Mensa.

Book preview

9781532000232_epubcover.jpg

Dogs with Careers:

Ten Happy-Ending

Stories of Purpose

and Passion

Image352.JPG

Anne Hart

ASJA Press

New York Lincoln Shanghai

Dogs with Careers: Ten Happy-Ending Stories of Purpose and Passion

Copyright © 2007 by Anne Hart

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

ASJA Press

an imprint of iUniverse, Inc.

iUniverse

2021 Pine Lake Road, Suite 100

Lincoln, NE 68512

www.iuniverse.com

1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

ISBN: 978-0-595-47474-5

ISBN: 978-1-5320-0023-2 (ebook)

Contents

Story #1 Space Shuttle—Cape Canaveral, Florida

Story #2 Dogface Does Well on His Math Test

Story #3 There’s Life and Eleven Dimensions in Outer Space

Story #4 Doctor Doghandlers Clues

Story #5 Dog Face

Story #6 Long-Lost Dog Buddies

Story #7 Bride and Groom Honeymoon in Space

Story #8 Time Traveling the Ancient Mediterranean with Paul of Patmos and his Dog, Xanthe

Story #9 Commitment to Purpose and Passion

Story #10 Dogs with Wings

Here’s How to Start Writing Animation Scripts or Cartoon Storylines

Inspiration: A cat in Every Library, and a Dog in Every Bookstore...

Story #1

Space Shuttle—Cape

Canaveral, Florida

A Mother and Daughter Astronaut Team, the Immortal Space Dogs, and Retriever, the Puppy: at The Eleventh Dimension’s Dog Club

SPACE SHUTTLE—CAPE CANAVERAL, Florida

They’re library dogs, Charlie. They’re all dog-faces, laughed the space station manager, as he waved good-night to his security dogs and locked the gates. They’re not just dogs with jobs, but detective canines with investigative sniffing careers at the space station and in outer space.

At night, the space station’s library is eerie, dim lighted, and in places, simply velvet-shadow dark, except for the human’s dogs. They mingle with the shape-shifting immortal space dogs that prowl the space station library’s corridors and live among the rows of computers.

Career dogs just want to have fun traveling onboard the space shuttles as working companion dogs, never locked behind gates. These dogs don’t bite. They are dogs with purpose and passion.

This is a team of working dogs that can shape-shift from dog to human and human to dog live outside of time. And in this century, they work for a mother and daughter astronaut team.

Which dog sprayed wolf graffiti on the space shuttle? A ground controller dog, a mellow, Chocolate Labrador retriever, studied the photo. But how did it get there?

Maybe it’s a paste-on tattoo that the astronauts put on board to celebrate all those years here, the pack leader howled in a licorice-sweet yelp. The omega canine hurried to switch off another computer.

‘Retriever,’ formerly a library greeter dog but now the ground controller’s pet, sniffed with curiosity. He stretched and curled up on top of the filing cabinet. At night, the space station’s library is eerie, dim lighted, and in places, simply velvet-shadow dark, except for the human’s dogs. They mingle with the shape-shifting immortal space dogs that prowl the library’s corridors and live among the rows of computer. Library dogs, like library cats are people greeters, eager to be petted, therapeutic, and smart enough to keep quiet in the reading rooms.

They are wannabee me free dogs who live in the space station’s lending library and travel onboard the space shuttles, never locked behind gates. And these dogs don’t bite. They have fun as dogs with jobs—real working dogs that live outside of time when they please.

Some, unknown to the space program, aren’t even home-grown. Those include shape-shifting dog to human and human to dog type of dogs that the mother and daughter astronaut team named Dogsniffer and Dogface Dogge-determination. And those two keep the astronaut’s puppy, Retriever quite busy nowadays.

Which dog sprayed wolf graffiti on the space shuttle?

A ground controller dog, a mellow, Chocolate Labrador retriever, studied the photo. But how did it get there?

He aimed a scowl of surprise over his computer at his boss. Maybe it’s just a paste-on tattoo that the astronauts put up to celebrate all those years here, barked the retriever.

The alpha dog replied in a licorice-sweet yelp. After all, faces of wolves represent cleverness better than these faces of wise owls you put on your boss’s computer screensavers.

How about a fox face to represent the ‘crazy as a fox’ cliche? The retriever shook his floppy ears and took a sudden interest in his forlegs, and then his elbows and paws. Darn, the dust mites in this place. A dog could get the balding mange.

The dog’s boss hurried to another computer. Retriever, the Earth-born dog, formerly a library greeter dog adopted by the ground controller’s boss, sniffed with disdain and curled up on top of the main filing cabinet. A computer screen banner reflected bright red in each puppy’s hazelnut-brown eyes.

Rows of blinking computers lit up the room everywhere. The controller called in an expert. Everyone expert in the room studied the graffiti this time through video monitors as they watched the space shuttle.

The controller pressed a button on his phone. I’ll call security.

And I’ll call Prunella Zeezee said his boss. Our latest female commander astronaut can fix anything.

You don’t have to mention that the commander is female each time you refer to her, said the ground controller’s boss dog.

You’re right. Ever since we hired several commanders with toddlers, i’m always waiting for the first to give birth in orbit, the ground controller dog said amiably as he extended his thin ivory paw across his human’s computer keyboard.

Mother and daughter astronaut teams still made news. Prunella Zeezee Doggedetermination, 28, jet pilot, astronaut, and space scientist also worked hard to be an athlete. Prunella sat next to her mother and long-time astronaut, Dr. Velia Zeezee Doggedetermination, one of the first women in space. Velia went in as a doctor of space medicine.

Prunella had dogged determination’s expertise at repairing space satellites in orbit gave the team buzz words in the news. The mother-and-daughter astronaut team kept their space suits on. Hey where are those takeoff orders? Prunella barked into her phone.

Prunella adjusted the controls as the first controller appeared on his video screen. okay, astronauts. Run out of that space shuttle. Let’s call it a day. We’ve got a security breach. Seems that someone sprayed graffiti on the side of the shuttle....

Prunella winced at her mother. She doesn’t know what it’s like being a single mother to teenage space freaks.

Was there something you wanted to tell me? asked the first controller on his intercom.

Prunella pressed a button and wiped the controller’s face from the screen.

Ooops! The wiring just short circuited, Prunella said. We’ve lost communidogion.

Prunella pressed the red alert button and sirens blared.

I bet you’ll love pushing papers, mom. So how does it feel to be shoved out at fifty?

Wild, Velia sighed.

old astronauts never die, mom. They just orbit their lecture circuit.

I’ll run for president, Velia laughed. Shouldn’t they all run for something?

It’s back to Earth. Velia laughed as she removed her space helmet. She ran her hand across her cheek.

Tell that to the dog twins, Prunella replied.

That night in the astronaut’s dogs’ play yard jangling jewelry chains grew louder. Two feline figures walked slowly—Dogsniffer and Dogface the teenage dogs of Velia and Prunella Rhoades.

Each young dog watched the world between two basketball courts until two members of a rough alley dog clique walked onto the schoolyard grounds.

A wind rose. Beyond, a second space shuttle streaked across the dark sky, rockets screaming. Papers blew across the pavement. Dogsniffer rattled his chain as Dogface kicked over a garbage can. The rocket noise grew louder leading a comet streak of light.

A clap of thunder blasted overhead. Dogsniffer and Dogface watched their mom’s space shuttle streak above. The two dogs looked skywards for a moment and then on toward towards the two other dogs dressed in the same baggy pants. Did they belong to some support group for environmental chaos? Dogface thought.

Dogface’s eyes widened, reflecting the lights above.

A garbage can rolled toward the slowly moving dogs. A streak of lightning flashed from the sky, hitting the metal garbage can. The electric flash climbed the school drainpipe like a Jacob’s ladder. Suddenly the rain poured down.

Slowly Dogface and Dogsniffer, two Labrador yellow retriever dogs from the same litter, came face to face with tabby gray alley dogs, Loco and Hugo, leaders of a Florida teenage stray dog community armed with unclipped nails and muddy paws.

Dogface glanced at his ordinary clothes and the other dogs’ conformist-like wear. He took an interest in his Dogface. With tales proudly to the sky, the two dogs laughed nervously as they walked toward the two other teenagers. I’m scared, how about you? Dogface whispered. You can’t judge a dog by his baggy pants, Will laughed, I’m pretty scared myself. They all met, looked one another over quickly, and laughed loudly. The four dogs begin to converse. Yeah, we’re members of Loco’s dog community, so?

The dark playground stood still and quiet. Beyond, the city lights twinkled like stars, stretching across the city. Lightning and rain came down hard.

Dogface and Dogsniffer stood facing the other two, hands on hips, as the clique members began to circle them. Soon they realized the other two dogs towered over them. They recognized the two from their school class. oh it’s just you two, Dogsniffer said. Loco and Tom Dog. Here comes more trouble.

Loco, taller than Dogface or Dogsniffer, lit a rag in a bottle and smashed it to the ground.

The other dog balanced with arched backs and twitching tails, nose extended sniffing and rubbing their Dogface on the jungle gym of the empty playground.

I told you torn T-shirts, fatigue pants, combat boots, and leather jackets means they belong to a clique, Dogsniffer said. Dress doesn’t mean all that, Dogface added. You’ll see. You can’t judge a dog by his clothes.

Tom Dog, the leader, watched Dogsniffer take a small box from his shirt pocket. He held the little black box and pressed a button. Out shot a laser beam.

Hey, what’s that? Tom Dog shouted.

Dogsniffer walked under a street lamp, and Dogface followed him laughing.

Tom Dog and Loco closed in on Dogsniffer and Dogface swinging their arms like a monkey and making baboon hoots.

What did you steal from the space shuttle this time? Loco asked.

Dogsniffer stopped directly in front of Loco’s face. The rain fell down hard, dripping from the dogs’ faces.

I told you I was going to take you up for a ride in the shuttle, Dogsniffer said.

Loco laughed, and then Tom Dog as the two dogs closed in on Dogsniffer and Dogface.

Tom Dog grabbed the box from Dogsniffer’s hands. He pushed the buttons, but nothing happened.

Dogsniffer stepped back and circled Tom Dog and Loco slowly. Tom Dog and Loco circled Dogface and Dogsniffer as they kept pushing the buttons on the flashing box.

What’s this thing for?

Dogface took out of his pocket what looked like a walkie talkie radio. He pulled a small switch. You wanted to go to the moon?

Without warning, radio contact is made with the orbiting space shuttle. As the guys listened, Dogsniffer and Dogface heard the voices of their own older sister and mom orbiting the Earth in space flight.

Meanwhile, way out in space, astronaut Prunella asked Velia, Ever wonder what your dog is doing at this hour?

He’d better be doing his math or designing something, said Velia.

Oh, shucks. I forgot about the math quiz tomorrow.

On the satellite space station, Velia gazed out the window looking at Earth, the big blue marble, from a distance. I’m not going without a fight.

What now? Prunella complained.

Velia ate an astronaut’s meal from a toothpaste tube. "Somebody’s selling defective parts for the shuttle. I’m going to be forced into early retirement for blowing the whistle.

It’s Russian Roulette up here."

If you run for public office, mom, somebody will listen.

"They’re kicking me out because I know everything.

The pink slip always says burn out. only it’s not me, it’s the shuttle that’s in burn out. Why don’t they dump the space ship and keep the astronaut? It’s usually the other way around.

Did you ever hear of an astronaut burning out from keeping one hand in the dishpan and the other on the cradle?

No, Velia laughed. She’d have to steer a space ship with the toes"

Who says it’s a ‘she’? Prunella said. With the twins dogs almost a year old and equal to humans in their teens now, I still have plenty of dog cradles to rock at home with the younger puppys from the dog rescue home and no helper or partner in sight.

A light flashed ... the communications signal. The computer has ears, Velia said.

What do they need us for? Robots cost less.

Velia clicked on the Earth control station switch. The ground controller’s face appeared on the computer screen. He smiled.

What’s the matter? Is your armor cracking?

The robot’s arm malfunctioned, Prunella told the controller.

Wires stuck out of the space robot. It lied like a dummy across the bow of the space ship.

Dump him. He’s a loser, Velia ordered.

Do you see anything out there? Any space alien dogs?

Just you, Tom, Prunella laughed to the first controller. He clicked off his communidogion screen.

Prunella grabbed a tube of food paste and squeezed the mashed vegetables into his mouth. He gazed into outer space at the full moon.

We have tons of work, and we can’t be stopping to take a nap.

That attention to detail, mom, is what makes you a great commander, Prunella said, smiling.

Prunella floated down into the lower equipment bay and found his little plastic bag. The space dog, Retriever, this orbit had been included with them. Retriever had his own space suit and sniffed deftly at the canned air with disdain.

Velia sat at the controls and turned on his intercom. "In the next century,

This shuttle will be an amusement park ride. Don’t you wish the dogs could watch you now?"

Back in the dark and empty school playground Loco looked at Dogface and Dogsniffer’s new toy.

You didn’t dare steal that thing from the shuttle.

Dogface whipped out a snapshot from his wallet. It’s a picture of the graffiti spray painted on the side of the shuttle."

Loco looked at the photo. Tom Dog tore it away from him and looked at it for a long time before ripping it up. That’s our tag. The police will know it’s us.

Dogsniffer laughed loudly. You don’t think I’d write my own name on mom’s spaceship.

It’s not your mom’s, said Tom Dog.

Dogface grabbed the device back. Now let me show you something. You’re wondering how a hundred-pound dog sneaked inside the space shuttle? Hey, I’m going to sneak all of you inside.

Dogface whipped out the laser tool he took from the space shuttle.

Now watch me, you dogs of genius.

The dog’s a genius, Dogsniffer yowled in a sing-song voice. Even more of a genius than Dogsniffer Gates ... Thunder pealed.

Watch me, Dogface barked. Security breaker! The laser tool shot a beam. It melts metal, said Dogsniffer. Better than a video game. For real.

Dogface aimed the laser tool at the jungle gym. It cut the metal in two. Loco perched on top of the jungle gym slid to the ground. The metal legs of the jungle gym crashed down after him.

Nice welding tool, eh? Dogsniffer shook his device. Perfect for melting space garbage. That’s what it’s for, my friends. Melting space garbage.

Smoke and fire pour from the melted playground equipment. The light rain turned it into a steaming column that rose around the dogs.

That’s what my brother uses to repair space satellites, Dogface said. Look, I’m Rosie the Riveter, he laughed as he moved his hand like a welder. "Just like Rosie the Riveter.

After a doctorate in physics, he still melts space garbage."

Well, he repairs satellites, too, Dogface.

There’s no getting away from doing the same thing year after year, said Dogsniffer. When I grow up I won’t be melting space garbage.

So maybe we didn’t miss much by dropping out of school, Loco sighed.

You missed learning how to design my Web sites, Dogsniffer added. I wouldn’t drop out now that the fun’s starting. Talk about repetition, dropping out is the pits of doing the same thing every day, guys.

Yeah, somethin’ new every day, Tom Dog added.Like this."

Tom-Dog high-kicks Dogsniffer in his face. A high karate kick with piledriver force. Dogsniffer drops his laser tools. As it clutters down, Dogsniffer’s sneakers are on tiptoe. Tom Dog hammer-scratched Dogsniffer with blinding speed. He leapt out of the way to the ground in a tail-twitching heap and ran half-way up a tree.

You missed. What’s the matter. Did the dog-groomer clip your nails?

Loco grabs the laser tool. Rich dogs steal expensive toys.

Tom Dog blasts Dogface in the face. Dogface screams. The laser comes close, but misses. He turns his head, rolling away, and falls. Dogface claps his hands over his face and pretends he is burned. Tom Dog peers over him, laughing. So long, monster face. You want to be an astronaut like your brother and mom? Now you look like a Martian.

Tom Dog walked away laughing hideously, followed by Loco who bent down and swiped the radio communidogion device from the pavement.

The rain streamed down over Dogsniffer’s face, running into his eyes. Dogface helped him up.

Are you still alive?

How come they didn’t touch you, Dogface?

I made believe I passed out.

Loco left the playground and walked down the street. He stood under a pool of street light to put the laser tool in his belt. Tom Dog joined him.

Loco switched on the box. He heard voices from the space shuttle control center nearby and then static. He put the radio device into his belt.

Back in the playground, Dogsniffer sat up in a rain puddle. What hit me?

Dinosaurs of distinction.

I hope I still have the video.

Dogsniffer ripped open his jacket. He pulled out his recorder. Pretty neat, huh? Dogface saw a microphone taped to Dogsniffer’s shirt.

What’s the difference, Dogsniffer? They didn’t say much.

I think you’re crazy to get involved with killer punks just to write that stupid comic book of yours. Dogface turned away.

I told you I’m turning my diary into a comic book with a real dog detective story, Dogface.

Dogs don’t keep diaries.

Immortal dogs from inner space keep diaries. Only they call it logs. Like in the Captain’s log. Funny how girls keep diaries and dogs keep logs, and they could be the same thing.

Logs are kept by the captain of a ship or the owner of a business. Diaries are personal journals. When I grow up I want to be a reporter.

Well, I want to be an astronaut, Dogface said.

Maybe I can be both.

Yeah, well you’re going to get killed trying.

Dogface gave Dogsniffer his handkerchief, and Dogsniffer wiped his face.

The two teenager dogs walked down the rainy street. Thunder shook them silly. A bolt of lightning flashed, hitting a parked car next to them. The twins jumped. They moved past the neon signs.

The two past a bum who made a face at them and screamed. The bum put out his hand right into Dogface’s face as he asked for money. Dogface barked at the moon as the two walked faster.

The bum threw an empty wine bottle half sticking out from a paper bag at them. They ducked as the bottle missed and crashed to the sidewalk