Bernie

By Mark Weston

Bernie is a book for all
ages. It has become very popular in India
and the SAARC countries bordering India.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Finally, the novel has become available
throughout the United States
through First Books.

Lost and abandoned dogs on a
vacation island off the coast of Maineclass=GramE>, discover the meanings and answers to life through Wolf, an
aged Saint Bernard. He shares his
knowledge and philosophies with Bernie, a young black Labrador retriever, and
other canines. Wolf acquires his
scholarly brilliance from listening for all of his 18 years, to his master, an
English college professor reading from the classics, the Bible, history and
other valuable works.

Bernie proves to be a motivated
student who applies and matures under the tutelage of his Saint Bernard mentor.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> The lessons Bernie acquired are eventually
applied in dealing with lifes predicaments.
As in life, youth must be served and Bernie replaces Wolf as the able
leader of their pack which also includes a female poodle, Alyce,
and Springer Spaniel, Marion. style='mso-spacerun:yes'>Together the pack survive
on the isolated island until they are finally rescued.

All readers will profit from the
lessons learned from these canines..

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 5, 2004
• ISBN: 9781418460341

Book preview

Contents

1

BERNIE

2

A NEW DAY

3

AND THEN THERE WERE THREE!

4

THE WEEK THAT WAS

5

LOSS

6

THE STRATEGISTS

7

RUN FOR HOME

8

THE SIEGE

9

KING OF THE HILL!

10

GROWING UP

11

SOMETHING’S MISSING!

12

BREAKING THE NEWS!

13

THE MYSTERY

14

DISCOVERY

15

THE GOOD WORD

16

AND THEN THERE WERE NINE

17

FAMILY

18

TOGETHER AGAIN!

1

BERNIE

Bernie, a two-year old black retriever was from birth a docile and loving pet of the New York Fallon family.

Like any young pup raised in a Manhattan apartment, he had his weaknesses, such as gnawing on furniture, shoes and ripping linens and pillows.

Bernie was reprimanded by swats with a rolled-up newspaper, but he never even snapped at his masters.

Summer always meant a release from the stifling confines of apartments and city life for many city dogs. Their owners made the ritual trek to the mountains or seashore and Bernie knew that the time was at hand. Bernie and the Fallon’s pet cat, Gladys, were placed into the overloaded family car for the ritual summer trip to Carson’s Island off the coast of Maine. The anxious retriever sat next to Janet, a perky, blonde, twelve-year old and peered at the sweltering city streets; the wilting and bored people leading listless animals by their leashes. ‘I can’t wait!’ Bernie thought to himself. ‘No more being tugged into the gutter as I’m being taken for my evening walk…no screeching cars, no leashes when I meet a new romance.’ That happened often but never lasted longer than a quick howdy-do…a few wags of his tail and a yank on his collar.

Bernie knew that he would be able to chase rabbits, squirrels and flush birds…and bark as loud and as often as he pleased. He’d be able to dig in the dirt and find trees rather than fire hydrants. Great! And the surf! He turned to Janet Fallon and gave her face a warm slurp of joy as he thought of the fresh rolling thrill of the surf as he retrieved sticks thrown into the ocean.

He was a good car dog. Bernie knew that…except for the bi-annual trips to the vet.

As the trip grew longer, Bernie became restless. He anticipated his long-awaited vacation and the ferryboat ride to the island, where he would be accompanied by a chorus of barks from dogs from their car windows. The cars disembarked and headed for all parts of the island. A young, cute, white springer spaniel in a flaming red convertible, stared timidly at Bernie while their cars waited behind a long line of cars at a stop sign. Hi! Bernie said.

Hi! Marion replied, as she dropped her long ears, fluttered her eyelids and smiled.

Gladys gave Bernie a look of disdain and bluntly stated, Bernie…you’re a flirt!

Mind your own business!

His comment startled Marion. I beg your pardon?

Flustered, Bernie explained, I’m really sorry. I wasn’t talking to you. My name’s Bernie.

Hello. I’m Marion.

Hello, Marion.

Marion giggled, Hello, Bernie. The dogs quickly faced the front as their cars started to move. Bernie stared at Marion and silently made a desperate wish. ‘Live near me! Please live near me!’ Disappointed, Marion and Bernie sighed as their cars turned in opposite directions. They both kept looking until each disappeared from view. Bernie shook his head sadly and grunted, Shucks!

The Fallon beach house was as he remembered. Even the bones which Bernie had buried the last summer were still there. Wolf, a crotchety, old Saint Bernard neighbor rarely paid attention to Bernie, but Bernie did not take offense for he knew Wolf’s eyesight wasn’t any too good…it could be his last summer.

Terry Fallon, a pert good-natured red-head in her mid-30’s called, Bernie! Din-Din!

Din-Din! Bernie muttered as he lay beneath a shade tree gnawing on one of his preserved bones. ‘I don’t even like T. V. programs that dog food company sponsors." Oh, well, I better get it over with.’ He scampered into the kitchen to the tray he shared with the family cat. One bowl full of dog food, the other side was filled with tuna fish for Gladys.

Bernie eyed Mrs. Fallon. Did you ever eat meat that smelled like fish? he muttered.

Stop complaining and eat… Gladys kibitzed.

The summer was as enjoyable and exciting as Bernie had expected. His meetings with nature’s creatures were filled with delightful moments, except when he decided to play a game of tag with the cute rodent with the white stripe down its back. Wolf, whose sense of smell had been thought to have deserted him seasons back, had enough left to encourage him to move to part of the porch farthest away from the Fallon property.

The perfume and deodorant sprays Mrs. Fallon used on Bernie offended the powerfully built male retriever, who even had to suffer Gladys’ jibes, such as, Aren’t you sweet, big boy!

The days grew shorter as September arrived. The beach houses were being boarded and locked as summer inhabitants began their exodus back to their city homes.

Terry cleaned Gladys’ litter box and removed the sand from her paws and coat for the final time before they left the island.

Bernie was taking a last walk on the beach before his departure, when a familiar rabbit caught his eye and he took off in hot pursuit. The hare skirted the dunes and dashed into the safety of the woods.

Bernie soon sniffed it out and game of tag continued until he suddenly realized that he had lost all sense of time and direction. The right-angle turns of the rabbit had led Bernie into a strange forest and he was lost.

The Fallons spent hours searching for Bernie. They remained in their cottage another night, waiting for Bernie to return. Darkness of the second day approached and the family, heavy-hearted and burdened with the loss of Bernie, drove onto the island ferry for the trip back to the mainland.

Bernie tried one path after another, each leading him nowhere. Exhausted, he collapsed onto a clump of weeds and slept. He knew that they would find him.

On the next day, Bernie finally found his way back to the cottage. He circled the deserted house and looked everywhere. Standing on his hind legs and stretching his body to peer through a crack in the boarded window…he saw that the rooms were desolate and dark.

They’re gone, came a voice from behind, They’re all gone.

Bernie nervously sniffed the air.

It’s no use…they all must be home by now. Said Wolf.

Bernie ran frantically down the road barking, then he stopped and ran in the opposite direction…occasionally halting abruptly, looking around and finally…whimpering softly, walked slowly back to where Wolf stood watching.

Wolf nodded his head from side to side in sympathy for Bernie. It’s no use.

Bernie stood with his head drooped, then giving one last look, drew up his rear legs and settled his body upon the ground. He placed his head between his front paws and sadly stared at his cottage.

You’ll be all right, son…you’re still young…you’ll make it.

Bernie didn’t move, but as though thinking aloud, whispered, It’s not right…it’s just not right! They knew I’d come back… I always did!

They didn’t leave you…they just couldn’t wait any longer… they kept looking for you…but they had to leave.

Bernie perked up, When?"

Yesterday.

Wolf ambled down to the dock, where he watched the distressed Bernie, who kept staring in disbelief. Then suddenly aware of Wolf’s presence, Bernie asked, You get lost, too?

No, I just got old.

Bernie looked around at the dock and sniffed the road. They didn’t even leave a scent…that’s what you get for being faithful. Guess they’ll replace me…teach him the same tricks… the things I had to put up with. I even graduated from obedience training. I beat a Chihuahua out for top dog…the trainer was Spanish…so you can imagine how tough that was. Now I’ll just be a memory…a few pictures on the mantle…an old collar and… Bernie looked away, embarrassed.

And what?

I was a little rough on the furniture…but they forgave me a long time ago…and now?

They’ll be back.

Do you think so?

Wolf responded, I don’t want this to sound like I was nosy… but the Fallons were proud of you…they’ll be back…you’ll see."

A tear came to Bernie’s eyes. I miss them…even Gladys!

The cat? Wolf said, I thought you couldn’t stand her. She always got you into trouble.

Bernie nodded in agreement. "Yeah, no one ever came over