Chosen Pathways

By Judy Greenawalt

That pesky, sneaky, window-peeking cat that wanders around the neighborhood, has cordially invited you to view and enjoy some more adventures of Kipper, Beauregard, and Tracker from THE TWO LABS AND A BLOODHOUND, that reside with their humans in North Pownal, Vermont.

Chosen Pathways is a collection of short stories, some of which are told from the dogs' point of view of some actual events that have happened. However, the dogs were gracious enough to allow their momma to sneak in and record some fictional stories, for a fee of course. Please be advised that payment was delivered in the form of doggy treats, mostly the chicken and yam wraps that the dogs all so dearly love!

So once again, kickback and relax, and enjoy the adventures of all, for every day is an adventure when you are owned by a dog.

To view some colored photos of the dogs, please go to www.twolabsandabloodhound.com and follow the links.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 29, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452088402

Judy Greenawalt

Judy Greenawalt is a native Vermonter who lives in the southern part of the state with the resident animals and critters in the book.

Book preview

DEDICATION

For Toby

missing image file

Toby and Beauregard July 12, 2005

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Once again I need to thank Elaine Clark for her editing skills and for being a good friend. I am so thankful and feel so blessed to have a wonderful friend like you, and how our Heavenly Father arranged our paths to cross in our journeys of life. Your patience and skills are greatly appreciated.

Contents

DEDICATION

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

FORWARD

CHAPTER ONE  THE WALK

CHAPTER TWO  DIVINE INTERVENTION?

CHAPTER THREE  UNCONDITIONAL LOVE

CHAPTER FOUR  INTO THE NIGHT

CHAPTER FIVE  SAGA OF THE THREE WENCHES

CHAPTER SIX  MR. T’S NEW CLOTHES

CHAPTER SEVEN  THE BEANIE

CHAPTER EIGHT  PEAR THIEVES

CHAPTER NINE  SPA DAY

CHAPTER TEN  NEW FRIENDS

CHAPTER ELEVEN  HIDE AND SEEK

CHAPTER TWELVE  MOVING ON

CHAPTER THIRTEEN  THE DOG NAPPER

CHAPTER FOURTEEN  MARNEY

CHAPTER FIFTEEN  THE TALK

CHAPTER SIXTEEN  STORY TELLERS

FORWARD

It has been said that life is a journey we all must partake in once we are born, and after we take our first breath. No one has the choice to enter any specific culture when we are born into this world, but most of us are given the freedom to make choices along the pathways of life. We all live, we love, and we all die. We all get a little anxious with life events at times; it is just our nature. We learn about God, the life process, and experience disappointments along with accomplishments. Our journey through life also takes many twists and turns along roads we travel, and the paths we choose along the way creates our destiny and our identity. My husband has always said, A stranger is a friend you have not met yet. I often think of that quote when I just happen to be somewhere and meet someone new. And how amazing it is when that one person, who crosses our path as we journey through life, or even one event, can forever change our lives and those around us. Hopefully, we learn much along life’s chosen paths, and two of the greatest things we can learn is love and forgiveness. Forgiveness is one of the most beautiful forms of love we can learn and experience, and in return we receive untold peace. This book is composed of a variety of short stories pertaining to different aspects of life, and I hope you really enjoy them. So dear readers, thank you for opening this book, and now sit back, relax, and let your imagination and your mind go wild as you read, and have fun doing so. After all, this is also another journey you are about to experience.

CHAPTER ONE  THE WALK

I sit quietly on the deck in the backyard and watch the raspberry colored sky as the morning sun slowly rises over the majestic mountains that surround our valley. It is our Heavenly Father once again painting another masterpiece for all to behold and enjoy. I am so amazed as I watch the fog lift higher and higher over the horizon, filtering into the mountains and slowly dissipating from my view. In a few minutes its presence will be only a memory. I notice an occasional silhouette of an early-rising bird in search of food as it soars through the great puffiness of the fog. It is early November, cool, and the once colorful mountains of yellows, red, and oranges of last week have been replaced with hues of deep, majestic purplish colors. Strange how the colorful fall leaves seem to all of a sudden vanish, as if by magic. Where have they all gone?

I continue to watch silently as the sun starts to climb higher and higher in the sky, signaling to all the arrival of a new day. I look around at Kipper and Beau moseying around, just doing their doggy thing on the lawn when I suddenly notice the thick, white frost on the grass sparkling like a million diamonds as the sun continues to cascade its early morning rays. Funny how I did not notice that while I was out there rutting around a few minutes earlier with the two Labs in the backyard. I wonder why that is?

As the sun rises higher, the mountains become more majestic looking; the colorful hues of purples become deeper and more jewel-like with each passing hour. More birds are now awakening and are looking for their morning meal from the bird feeders my masters have precisely planted in the yard. Flocks of geese gracefully fly overhead, honking their presence to all as they pass, saying their good byes as they head off to their winter grounds. I patiently continue to sit and watch the new day dawning while our morning meal is being prepared by our doggy mom. Where is she anyway?

I stand on my hind legs and peer through the window and notice that she has already started that coffee-thing she turns on first thing every morning, and she is feeding those pesky varmints, the cats. Look at them winding around her legs and meowing as she fixes their dishes. They are such spoiled babies! They always seem to get fed first, and we don’t know why, but we think she does that so we can eat our meals in peace.

I notice the smell of the coffee filtering through the air as she fills our bowls and is fixing our food. I give a quick bay to the boys, signaling them that they need to get up here with me on the deck as it is almost time to go inside to eat. Beau comes tearing across the lawn, makes one leap and is on the deck beside me. How does he always do that so gracefully? I tried that once and I skidded into the table out here on the deck, and took out two chairs, and landed in a heap in the corner of the latticework. Kipper and Beau keep reminding me that my landing was not a pretty picture. Kipper takes his sweet old time waddling up here to join us. He has an old injury to his knee and doesn’t sprint much these days. Is he feeling his age, I wonder? He is a lot older than Beau and me, but still agile in other ways.

Oh good, she has finally noticed me looking in at her through the window and she smiles and waves at me. Now that just doesn’t cut it when your belly is screaming the hum grumblies of hunger and you know there is food on the other side of that door just waiting for us, and we have to wait for her to open it. Think I will sit here and pout for a few minutes.

Oh thank goodness, she is finally coming towards us which means the food is ready. We could have wilted dead away while having to wait outside like this. (Time frame…twenty minutes) She opens the door and we go tearing inside past her, each of us trotting right over to our respective feeding place. Beau and Kipper always just dive right in, never even trying to figure out what we are being served, gobbling it all down like they haven’t eaten in weeks; must be a Labrador thing. I sniff my dish and determine we are getting chicken and veggies with pasta served over our dry food. Yum, yum, yummy! Out of the corner of my eye I see the two gluttons head right over to her after they finished inhaling their food, looking for the dog cookie we always get after breakfast. They are so smug sitting there, shaking and alternating their paws with her as she counts One, two, and three. Kipper just had to throw an extra shake in there to make it four; the show off. Maybe I will just give him a dirty look.

I continue to eat my food slowly as I always have, savoring each morsel. When I have finished, I walk over and sit in front of her, offering her my paw, as is expected of me for my cookie. I could do the one, two, three thing, but we Bloodhounds can be stubborn, and I have an image to uphold. Besides, if I do it, she will expect it of me on a regular basis. I got excited once and did the one, two, three thing with my paws and it took me nearly six months to show her I couldn’t get the hang of it again. Truth is I can do it when I want to, and she knows it, but I really do not want to do it. Score one for me! I have her trained on the paw shaking when it comes to me. I swear the boys would get more enjoyment from this morning ritual if they would just slow things up a bit. Oh well, I suppose that’s just another Lab thing.

As I eat my cookie, she is reading that newspaper-thing while sipping her coffee and eating that bagel that smells so good. I hope she put the creamy cheese on it. I really like that creamy cheese stuff. Kipper and Beau sit beside her patiently waiting because we know that at given any moment she will give us each a piece of it to nibble on, and then us dogs will all go hot-footing back upstairs and pester the doggy dad who is still in bed. As we walk out of the kitchen we always hear her say, You boys always desert me like rats abandoning a sinking ship when the food is gone. She’s right; we do. Basically, we really go upstairs to catch another forty winks or so until it is time to go for our morning walk. Sometimes Beau and Kipper don’t go with us. That is okay as I really like my time with her alone sometimes; it is a dog thing.

I hear her finishing the human ritual of stepping out of the box with the water in it, and then she steps on the white fake, furry rug, drying herself off with one of the fluffy towels Beau loves to steal. Next I know she will be putting on what the humans call clothes and I slide off the bed. I saunter out to the hallway and quietly sit at the top of the stairs waiting for that thing to stop that blows hot air into her hair. Why do humans do that ritual stuff in the morning anyway? Oh good, that blowing thing has stopped and she is running that fingery thing through her hair. Oh gawd, here comes that spray stuff. Why do humans step into the box with the water if they’re going to just get smelly again with sprays and all that stuff they use when they come out of it? Oh, that’s right; you cannot hear my communication in dog language. But, humans sure do understand the looks that I give!

Beau and Kipper are still soundly asleep as my doggy mom and I descend the stairs. She calls to them as we go down toward the kitchen, but they are ignoring her as it is cold outside and the warmth of the human bed feels wonderful. Guess we all are a bit spoiled! That’s okay because we can walk farther when it is just the two of us, as Kipper’s leg really bothers him sometimes and he slows us up.

She puts that matching leash thing on my blue moose collar with the tags that I wear on my neck, and we head out the door into the cold air that really has not changed much since breakfast. The heavy frost is still on the grass, but the sun is now high in the sky and feels good against my coppery coat of fur. Those things the humans call vehicles are starting to multiply and whiz past our house as we head out of the yard. She gives me the signal to wait while she checks to see of it is safe for us to cross the road. While we wait I can hear the neighbor’s rooster crowing, signaling to him that the chickens are awake. I notice my doggy mom is looking around like she is trying to decide in what direction we should go after it is safe to cross the road. I hope she goes down the side of the road where the kids play ball because there are lots of interesting smells along the way. Then we get to walk in the woods and go down by the river for a bit afterwards while I do my scenting thing.

As we wait to cross the road, I see something under the tree near the driveway by the stone church. Oh darn, it is that pesky cat that sometimes peeks in our living room windows! As I look across the road I keep telling myself that I must not chase the cat as she will not like it. Oh darn! That cat has stopped dead in his tracks and is now looking at me. I must not chase the cat. I must not chase the cat. I must not chase the cat. She gives me the signal, and we cross the big road and the cat is now rolling on the ground tormenting me as we pass because it knows I am with a human and it is safe for the moment. I am good; I do not try to chase the cat. I glance back and see the cat now sitting there all smug, washing his paws like he just won that round. Man, I really want to chase that cat! I look up at her and wonder if she has noticed how good I was.

Good boy, Tracker she says. I know you wanted to chase that cat. You did really good, buddy. She scratches my back as we walk, and I look up at her, and I can’t help but wonder how she knew I really wanted to chase that cat?

Oh, how rude of me; I have not introduced myself. I am Colonel Tracker Bloodhound, dog of royal descent. The Labs tell me I am such a snob, but I am just being myself and doing what my breed was meant to do; looking elegant while scenting and walking.

As we walk I put my nose to the ground and scent out such wonderful smells one can only imagine. Beau and Kipper tell me they can smell the same things as I can, but my nose is much more sensitive than theirs, and