Mortimer's Odyssey

By Gregory L Lamberty and Tonia Henry

Mortimer, the star dachshund of Fred and Jane Best's Dachshunds always wanted to explore the world beyond his pen in their barn. A beautiful late April Sunday evening gave Fred the idea to air out the breeding barn. The night was gorgeous. Anxious to get a smoke, Fred walked out to the fence behind the barn and looked out over the valley while h

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gregory Lamberty
• Release date: May 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9798218175443

Gregory L Lamberty

Greg was born in the 1950s. He was educated in Catholic schools graduating with a B.A. in history from Loyola University of Chicago in 1972. He returned to school in the mid 1970s and received a B.S. in geography from Northern Illinois University in 1977. After working in the railroad industry for 10 years, Greg returned to school again to pursue a career in meteorology. Greg gratuated from Purdue University with a M.S. in Earth and Atmospheric Sciences in 1991. Greg joined the National Weather Service in 1992 and retired in 2013 in Columbia South Carolina. He now lives in Bonners Ferry with his wife Colleen and their dog Finny.

Book preview

1

Stars spread out from the east over the Northern Indiana sky as the sun set on a beautiful Sunday evening in late April. Fred Best, a tall, thin man and owner with his wife Jane of Fred and Jane Best’s Dachshunds stood at the doorway of his breeding barn. He’d just finished feeding the dogs, turning obnoxious barking into subdued munching. He breathed in the crisp clean air when a thought passed through his mind.

The evening air would really freshen up the barn. I’ll just leave the door open a while and let it do just that.

So Fred left the door half open and walked behind the building to enjoy the view. It was breathtaking. Rolling hills and valleys spread out under a star-filled sky, along with the soft light of a full moon faned out before him. Lit farm houses dotted the landscape with freshly plowed fields alternating with pasture.

Fred looked up at the starry sky as a few wispy streaks of clouds crossed over his head. Calm filled his heart. He thanked God for his life, his family, and his dogs.

Fred didn’t realize that he’d left more than one door open. He forgot to lock Mortimer’s pen. The black, wire gate hung tantalizingly open.

***

While Fred admired the beauty of the rolling hills of Northern Indiana, Mortimer plotted. It was now or never—his chance to explore the outside world for himself.

Decision made. The little, black mop snuck out of his pen and crept through the brightly lit barn door out onto the white gravel walkway.

If Fred had been there, he’d have stopped Mortimer in his tracks, but he wasn’t. Mortimer’s shadow disappeared into the darkness. He wandered out onto the lawn, away from the soft yellow light streaming through the barn door while Fred stood out back.

2

The little dachshund heard the barn door clang shut with a final bang. He saw Fred walk away toward the dimly lit porch. Mortimer’s first instinct was to bark, letting Fred know that he’d forgotten something, but an overpowering scent drew him, not toward home but out into the freshly plowed-field next door.

The scent grew stronger as he navigated the furrows. The Doggy News Article lay in the last one right near the road that separated Farmer Anderson’s field from the one on the other side.

This was a new experience for Mortimer. He’d never encountered a scent like this one. Most of the ones he read were left by neighborhood critters passing through Fred’s yard.

This article was different, unique from all the rest, so fresh that he was the first dog to read it. It was left by another canine, maybe one on the run. The article was a teaser. The trail of information led away from Fred, Jane, and safety. Throwing caution to the wind, Mortimer ran, following his nose. He found nothing.

Like it always does, curiosity leads to trouble. Like all lost dogs, Hunger reminded him of the need for food. The dachshund’s tummy sent the same message. Pampered by fancy premium dog food, he looked for some in Farmer Anderson’s field, but there was none.

The spoiled dachshund didn’t know what to do.

Where does Fred get my food?

Mortimer wanted his old life back and began to search for a way back to Fred’s. The only element he knew that pointed to doggy heaven was the yellow incandescent light of home. It meant warmth, safety, and dog food—premium dog food. Unfortunately, the barn door was closed, so there was no light to guide his way home. Too tired to keep looking, Mortimer fell asleep in the field.

3

Fred woke up early Monday morning. The first thing he always did was feed the dogs. He dressed in his blue jeans and denim shirt. He walked to the weathered barn and opened the gray metal door. The dogs started barking. They could see daylight streaming through the door as it opened. They knew it was breakfast time. The yapping died down as Fred passed out each dog food bowl.

Last on the list was Mortimer. Fred looked in but didn’t see the long-haired, black dachshund.

Mortimer, he whispered. Silence

Mortimer, where are you? Fred said.

Still no answer

Mortimer! Fred shouted.

Still nothing

I better have a closer look.

He walked in and searched the black-wired pen and realized Mortimer had disappeared.

Where’d he go? Fred said to himself.

Sadness and fear rolled over him like a tidal wave.

He’s my best dog. Where’d he go?

Fred ran outside looking for Mortimer.

Mortimer, Mortimer, Mortimer, come! Treat. Your favorite food is in your pen. It’s waiting for you!

Fred looked in every direction on the chance notion that he could see the black dog. After a half hour of calling and looking for Mortimer, Fred went through the kitchen door just as Jane was preparing breakfast.

What’s going on? she asked.

Mortimer’s gone.

Did you leave that door open again? Jane asked.

Yeah, but this has never happened before. Every so often, I need to open the door to air out the barn.

You must have left another door open.

Yeah, his pen gate, Fred sighed.

What are you going to do? Jane asked as she filled the coffee pot with cold water from the kitchen sink.

Call the police.

Shouldn’t you call Animal Control first?

Our friend, Rudy, works at the police station. He might know a way to cut through the red tape and speed up the search, Fred said as he lit up a cigarette and nervously drew his first puff.

I think you should call Animal Control, but go ahead and call the police if that is what you think is best, Jane said.

Fred, disappointed by Jane’s criticism, called the police anyway.

Fred waited as the phone rang. After five rings, his friend, Rudy Corcoran, picked up the phone.

This is the George-Ville Police, how may I direct your call?

Hey, Rudy, this is Fred. Mortimer ran away last night.

That’s too bad, what do you want me to do?

Maybe you could start the search. After all, you’re the police.

You need to call Animal Control, Rudy said.

Fred looked over his shoulder and saw Jane nodding her head as if to say, I told you so.

Can’t you start the search? Fred asked, I figured you’d know what to do.

Animal Control would be the agency to contact to start a search for lost pets, not the police. Since you called here first, you need to come down to the station. Bring two pictures of Mortimer, one for us and the other for me to pass on to Animal Control, Rudy said as he coughed.

Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can, Fred agreed. Are you sick?

No, just allergies, it’s spring you know, Rudy said.

Fred thanked his friend and hung up the phone.

He went back to the kennel office and located three photos of Mortimer. He placed them in a large manila envelope.

He then drove to the local sign-making shop, which was about a mile from the police station.

When Fred arrived, the sign shop owner Matt came out of his office to greet him. Fred explained to him that Mortimer had run away. He needed to make about thirty posters with a picture of Mortimer centered in the middle. Around that picture would be the words A $500 REWARD FOR A LOST DACHSHUND NAMED MORTIMER. IF FOUND, PLEASE CALL THIS NUMBER. Fred’s phone number would be placed at the bottom of the sign in large, black letters.

About an hour later, Fred walked out with a large box filled with the posters and tacks he needed to post the signs.

Fred hung posters on wooden power poles at busy intersections on the way to the police station. Fred parked his pickup truck in the parking spot labeled Visitors and ran through the front door of the station.

What took you so long? Rudy asked.

I had to make up posters and place them on power poles on the way here, Fred said.

Are you sure you can do that? Rudy asked.

There were no signs that said I couldn’t, Fred said. Anyway, here are the photos of Mortimer I promised you.

Fred handed them to Rudy who placed them in two separate manila envelopes, one for the police and the other for Animal Control. He had Fred fill out the required forms.

On the way home, Fred posted the rest of the signs. Some were posted inside grocery stores and others in department stores.

All I have to do is wait.

4

While Fred planned the search for his prized dachshund, Mortimer woke up in Farmer Anderson’s plowed up field near the country road still close to home.

Where am I?

He then felt a rumbling in the ground and smelled diesel fuel in the air. The noise became louder and louder, the rumbling increased, and the diesel exhaust fumes intensified. The little dog looked over and saw a huge tractor approaching, pulling a noisy planting machine behind it. Terrified, Mortimer ran right across the path of the farm machinery back toward Fred’s house. Safely clear of the planter’s wheels, he fell into another furrow, striking his head on an unearthed white boulder, stunning him.

He regained consciousness around mid-afternoon. Mortimer’s stomach really growled. The little dog hadn’t eaten in nearly a day.

Hunger said, I’m getting impatient. You need food to satisfy me.

Mortimer tried some earthworms that wriggled next to his furry body.

Yuck, he fretted.

These things taste terrible. Where can I get some real food?

He began to regret leaving the safety of his home. I miss Fred’s premium dog food.

5

After an unsettled night, Mortimer stood up on Tuesday morning and began looking for food. He wandered in the wrong direction, stumbled across the country road, and sniffed his way into the grassy field beyond.

Mortimer, thankful he wasn’t hurt, walked toward the Doggy News article. The scent became more intense as he approached. The tall grass parted. He plodded toward another farmer’s house. It was a two-story, red-framed building. It hadn’t been painted in several years. Some of the paint flaked off, leaving chips on the ground. Behind the house was a graveled parking lot with a large, green box on wheels pushed against the back fence. There, in front of it, lay a half-eaten chicken pot pie. It sent out Doggy News Articles like a human radio.

Fortune smiles on this dog, Mortimer mused. Just as he readied himself to sample some chicken, his reading nose received a danger signal from a creature approaching from behind. Mortimer turned around and saw a pair of green eyes. Those eyes belonged to an alley cat.

Hey you, that’s my pie. Everything outside this dumpster belongs to me, get it! the cat hissed.

Mortimer, so hungry, started eating anyway.

HissssssssSSSS, came from the cat as he bared his claws and charged the little dachshund. Mortimer barked at the cat. The cat held his ground. Deciding the smashed chicken pot pie wasn’t worth having his eyes scratched out, Moritmer scurried back into the grassy field from whence he came.

This isn’t going to be so easy.

Mortimer continued trekking through the green pasture searching for breakfast. All he could find was a couple scraps of a ham sandwich a shepherd had left behind.

After eating the ham, Mortimer crossed another country road, and by evening found a soft green patch under an old maple tree. He softened up the grass, curled himself up, and fell asleep.

He passed the night more tired and hungry than ever.

I miss my home.

Mortimer woke up around midnight to a gorgeous navy-blue sky dotted with a myriad of stars bathed in the soft light of the nearly full moon.

The little dog looked over to see his shadow spread out against the grassy field.

Too bad Fred didn’t see me. He could have saved me from this, Mortimer thought as he fell back to sleep.

6

Mortimer’s eyes were slapped by the dawn of the early Wednesday morning sun, jarring him awake.

He rubbed his eyes with his front paws.

Where am I?

Used to a comfortable pen in a warm barn, he didn’t realize how much he cherished it until he woke up cold and hungry.

What’s for breakfast? I can’t wait for that premium dog food. Hey, why am I out here? I thought this was a nightmare. It’s worse than a nightmare, it’s real!

After realizing he had no food or shelter, Mortimer dragged himself off the soft, dewy grass and walked toward a different aroma of food taking him farther and farther away from Fred’s. The sun quickly dried the dew off the dachshund’s fur.

The faint smell of fried chicken grew stronger as he walked along. That smell led to another garbage can behind another farm house. For a moment, Mortimer’s stomach growled. Fear told him there could be another ferocious feline with sharp claws guarding it. The little dachshund looked around to see if another cat was spying on him. No cat