That Time Of Night

Everyone is asleep. Well, everyone but me. This is the time I write stuff.
It may not be anything anyone wants to read, but I write it all the same. It unloads my mind some.

Wooffer is sleeping behind me in this office chair. He loves that part. It is like old times to him when he was the only dog we had and he was a young one and no one else got my attention. Wooffer was born in 1995.
As dog life's go, his has had the best any dog could have. In human years he is 98 years old.
If I were a dog, I would be 462 years old. Perhaps there is a story there. The old lady of 462 years and her little dog of 98. What memories we share.

Love,
Betty

A science fiction story where years are real years...........

8/12/2009

Hi Betty....

How are you doing ? How's my friend
Wooffer? I added you to my new site, I have a murder
mystery coming out soon, probably late fall..

http://jfbaraba.webs.com/murderinchelsea.htm


Cheers...Joe..

I'm often up quite late too, Betty. There's something special about the wee hours of the morning when the air is soft and the night lights make everything look magical.

Years ago, I wanted a large dog, so I visited the pound. The attendant had just sprayed all the cages with water, and this little brown matted ball of hair stuck his nose in the cage and looked up at me with big brown eyes. I was lost. The attendant told me he was scheduled for the chamber the next day, so I got him out of there and named him Puddles because he’d been standing in a big wet puddle when I first saw him.

He was so sick that he threw up several times on the way home. I already loved him and was afraid he had some terrible disease. But the vet said he was only about a year old and had pound fever. Soon, he was well enough for a bath, and oh, my goodness, he was beautiful with a fluffy tail that curled up over his body.

Puddles went everywhere with me in the car. Long before I had bucket seats, he'd sit on the back of the front seat so he could see out and rest his front paws on my right shoulder. He was my companion and best friend, and I loved him dearly.

He lived almost twenty years, never failed to be protective and loyal, and I based a short story on him, so in a small way, he’ll always live for me.

I'm sure Wooffer will always live for you.

Betty Fasig wrote:

Everyone is asleep. Well, everyone but me. This is the time I write stuff.
It may not be anything anyone wants to read, but I write it all the same. It unloads my mind some.

That kind of writing is like therapy, and a lot less expensive. It always comes from the heart, and expresses that "essence" you wrote about in another thread.

We love all your posts, Betty, because your essence shines through. Please keep sharing.

Ann

That was a nice story, Brenda. Sad, though, when you think about all those dogs no one takes home with them.

Betty, everyone wants to read the things you write.

Keep the writing coming, Betty. It not only helps you, it soothes our souls as well. I love to read what you write, even though I don't tell you often enough.

Betty,

Well said.

Betty Fasig wrote:

Everyone is asleep. Well, everyone but me. This is the time I write stuff.
It may not be anything anyone wants to read, but I write it all the same. It unloads my mind some.

Wooffer is sleeping behind me in this office chair. He loves that part. It is like old times to him when he was the only dog we had and he was a young one and no one else got my attention. Wooffer was born in 1995.
As dog life's go, his has had the best any dog could have. In human years he is 98 years old.
If I were a dog, I would be 462 years old. Perhaps there is a story there. The old lady of 462 years and her little dog of 98. What memories we share.

Love,
Betty

Victor Hugo said that animals makes bad
people more bad and good people more good..


Dog and cats belonged in my childhood and
I’re member those winter mornings when my father set off for the
forest to towing a small sled behid him, our mixed breed dog Jerry joined him and as my father worked all the day along as woodcutter the dog patiently accompanied him. when evening came Jerry used sat in the sled waiting my father to come.

One evening myather had left the sled and walked direct to home. Later the night the neighbour knockedon the door and when my mother opened the neghbour very worried asked whether Jarmar(the name of my father ) is
still in forest and wheaten Jalmar have wounded himself for, he have came later past the sled and found Jerry sitting in the sled waiting his mastter to com.

Dogs are loyal that way, Harry. Loyal and trusting.

Dear Harry,
The idea in my mind of the dog waiting in the sleigh is one of courage and hope.

I have known a lot of dogs and cats. A lot have been just let loose around here and are wild. I have tried to put out cat food for the cats, but they are not used to store bought food and choose to hang around the tall grass where the birds and squirrels cannot see them. They make a living.

The poor dogs, who have been taken care of their whole lives and fed in a dish have no idea how to live when they are dropped off on this road. They starve.

I know that most everyone here has read the story of Maxwell, but I post it here for you and your kind heart.



It had been a very cold night, and Wooffer had snuggled under the covers with his mom until the sun was well up. He slept another hour curled up behind her on the couch while she watched the morning news and drank her coffee. He thought he heard something, and listened very closely, but he did not hear it again. Wooffer was warm and comfortable and snuggled down in the cushions while his mom got dressed and did her early morning chores. Then he heard something again, a little soft moan. This time there was no mistake. He barked to get out, and when his mom opened the back door, he leaped out… his mom leaped out, too!! There, laying in the tall grass was a very large dog. Something was dreadfully wrong with this dog.

Up in the tall branches of the Old Oak Tree sat three buzzards… Digger, Rigger, and Mortis of “Nature’s Way,” a company that was in the business of “disposal of animals who have expired.” They meant no harm. It was their job to take care of the dead animals. Not a nice job, but someone had to do it. They were leering down at the big dog.

Wooffer went up and pushed his nose against the big dogs cheek. The dog lifted his head, only slightly, but he was still alive! Wooffer’s mom was feeling all around to see if the dog was hurt. She could see he had not eaten in a long time. Every rib, every backbone was visible through his skin. His lips and jowls hung in folds under his chin. He had no wounds. She knew he had been starving, but little did she know how long. She felt so sorry for the dog!!!! She hurried into the house and came out with some warm milk and some left over gravy and roast beef in a bowl. Gently, she held the dish up to the big dog’s nose. He was too weak to raise his head… Well, the dog had to eat! Wooffer’s mom scooped a little of the gravy in her hand and held it to the dogs lips. He licked out his tongue and licked it from her hand. Little by little, he ate the whole bowl-full. Then he slept for a long while. Wooffer kept watch.

Digger, Rigger and Mortis had flown off as soon as they saw the dog eat. “No business of ours.” they said, and went flying along the road.

When the dog woke up, he tried to sit up, but he was still too weak.

Wooffer and his mom kept watch on the big dog, feeding him and bringing him water, and when almost a week had passed, he was able walk around and talk to Wooffer. Wooffer wanted to know how he had gotten in the condition in which they found him. Well, it is one of the most incredible stories you will ever hear! This is Maxwell’s story:

Maxwell had been trained to track deer. Every year his master and three other men and their dogs went into the woods to hunt for the deer, and it was Maxwell’s job to track them down. The other three dogs had the same job, but Maxwell was the lead dog. He was the oldest and fastest and always out in front. He was supposed to track down the deer and point them out to the hunters. But he could not help himself. Every time he tracked down a deer, he would yell out “HUNTERS IN THE WOOD!!!!!!HUNTERS IN THE WOOD!!!! RUN, RUN, RUN!!!!” Of course, the deer would run as fast as they could! Maxwell liked the deer. He did not want them to be hurt.

Well, it was bound to happen. On this last hunt, one of the younger dogs had come up just as Maxwell was yelling “HUNTERS IN THE WOODS!!” and saw the deer run, and Maxwell just standing there watching them run off.

The younger dog was very angry. He said, “You make us all look like bad deer trackers! All this time you have been warning the deer!! No wonder we never find any deer!!!! I am going to tell the others, and if I were YOU, I would stay here and not ever come back to camp, because we will tear you to pieces!!!” And with that, he turned his tail toward Maxwell and trotted off.

Maxwell knew he had no chance against three dogs, so he stayed where he was. He heard the truck start up and drive off. He was alone in the woods. Abandoned.

It was a very large woods. He wandered for days, drank from the river, but found no dog food anywhere. He knew he was supposed to hunt something and kill it for food, but he just could not. He would look in the eyes of the rabbit and, hungry as he was, just tell them to go their way. He could not bear the look of fear in their eyes, or those of the mice, or the lizards. He did eat a few bugs. But they were not worth the effort as tired as he felt after three weeks of wandering. He was starving, and he knew it. Maxwell needed help, but who was there to help him?

The deer had been watching Maxwell, off and on, the last few days. They could see he was near the end of his strength. They felt very sorry for him, but no one knew what to do for him. Well, almost no one.

One of the does had a very daring idea. It was Mira, who was the eldest of the does (and also the bravest). She had been all around the woods, and knew who was where and what was what. She knew of a place that had no danger, and that help would come to Maxwell, if only they could get him there alive. All the deer agreed to help. Mira went right up to Maxwell and said, “We deer are so grateful for your help these last years, and we want to help you now. If you can walk we can take you to a place with food and safety.” Maxwell, who by this time was very weak indeed, said he thought he could walk, but he would have to rest a lot, and it might be dangerous for the deer. The deer decided, without exception, to take a chance.

It was a full day’s walk (at Maxwell’s pace) to Wooffer’s house. Maxwell walked a little and rested a little and then, they all walked on. Finally, they all reached the edge of Wooffer’s yard. Mira said, “This is as far as we dare to go. You just need to get to that door (she pointed to Wooffer’s back door)… and you will be safe.” That is where Wooffer found Maxwell that morning with the Buzzards looking down from tree.

Wooffer had listened to Maxwell’s story, with a lump in his throat.

Maxwell was certainly a good dog! When Wooffer told Maxwell’s story to his mom, she had a lump in her throat too. Maxwell was getting healthier every day. When someone came in the yard… he barked to raise the roof outside, and Wooffer barked to raise the roof inside the house. Maxwell was not a deer tracker, he was a First Class Watch Dog!!! Wooffer’s mom had a great idea! She went out to talk to Maxwell. “I know a sweet old lady, just down the road, who would really like you to come and be “Her Dog”. I would like to take you to meet her and if you do not want to stay with her, you do not have to. But I would like you to give her a chance.” Maxwell agreed. Wooffer’s mom gave Maxwell a bath (and a very handsome dog he was) and put Maxwell in the front seat of the truck right beside her, a place that Maxwell had never been allowed to ride before. He had always been in a cage in the back of the truck. She put down his window and he held his head out all the way and felt the wind. It was very nice. It was not far to the sweet old lady’s house and they were there in no time at all.

Miss Nelson (that was the sweet old lady’s name), lived all alone, and often she was very lonely and she was afraid of the dark. She was looking forward to meeting Maxwell. When Wooffer’s mom arrived with Maxwell, Miss Nelson came running out, smiling from ear to ear, and said “Let me look at my new dog!!! Oh, oh! Oh my, isn’t he just the cats pajama’s! What a dear looking thing!!” And she began to pet Maxwell’s head and rub his ears, and soon Maxwell was smiling ear to ear, too! Maxwell liked her very much. When Wooffer’s mom asked him if he wanted to stay with Miss Nelson, he said, “ I will give her a try. She seems very sweet.” So Wooffer’s mom left Maxwell with Miss Nelson and went home to tell Wooffer all about it.

Well, Miss Nelson became Maxwell’s New Mom that day. She let him come in the house! She let him sit on the couch right beside her and lay his head in her lap! She gave him his own special dish with lots of delicious food! She gave him his own toys! She talked to him about important stuff! But best of all, she let him sleep at the end of her bed. In no time at all, Maxwell loved Miss Nelson so much and she loved him so much that they became the best of friends. He called her “Mom” and she called him “Her Sweetie Pie Maxie Waxie the best thing that ever happened to me!”

Maxwell is still friends with Wooffer and his mom, but now he is so happy to be at home with his own mom and they watch Nature Shows every night and eat in front of the t.v. And when it is time for bed, his mom says, “Let’s go to bed Maxie.” and he snuggles down at her feet and falls asleep a very happy First Class Watch Dog!

You’re a good dog, Maxwell.



Love,

Betty

8/13/2009


Betty....


That was a beautiful sad story, it had
a happy ending, thank you for a well written
story for all to read...


Love Joe & Dusty....

I read a true story today written by a women in Spain. It is a love story about her horse. I'm not a horse person, but I fell into reading it because of her style. I would have posted the site, but for some reason, I am having a hard time doing it on this forum.

The story is a great read. She is a new writer, not published, but should be. It is a great story, and she is a great writer.

Here is how it can be found:

Type her name in the search bar. (Amanda Stagnetto.)

When all the listings come up, look for one that has horse in it.

Good story, Betty, of good dog. It's sad to
seen how some wild dogs sufferer in Creek where there are lot of them out side.
Thanks for the story.
Harry

Maxwell is a great dog.

Betty,

Even though you give your animals some human characteristics, the innocence and dignity that animals have over humans always shines through. Even the "bad" dogs were trained by the human hunters.

No wonder Bambi's father was so disturbed to find that Man had entered his forest.

Audie Murphy once said that animals and children were the "only all-good creatures left."

You have to keep writing these stories.

Ann

Murphy was right.

I really think this was one of your most heart warming tales, Betty. And yes, dogs who have caring masters will wait patiently for their return.

We do occasionally get 'drop offs' here, and it is really sad. But generally they will be taken in and cared for. As you say, the cats are another matter.

We have found a home for our dog, Bear. I am still looking for someone to love my cat, Precious. I hate to part with her, but I fear the trip would be far too traumatic.