Kris KIBBEE

Dewey the Daring: A JF Series

Tullys Bully Tails

The Tail of the Scarlet Sasquatch

Preface: Ive often decreed that there is nothing more precious in this world than a puppy. Mainstream society, you can keep your bulbous, rosy babies and their shrill cries; Ill take the velveteen pocket behind a Frenchie pups ear and the soft coo of his grunt any day. Forget baby powder. Give me some puppy breath and Im in ecstasy. But for as much as I adore those little cubs, Im also a realist. I know that those wide, trusting eyes and soft puppy sighs come with a lot (and I do mean A LOT) of responsibility. There was once a time when I could look upon a litter of puppies in awe and adoration, but as I age and experience piles up on me like a vacationers newspapers, I look at that wriggling mass of furry bodies and see sleepless nights, chewed shoes and a lot (yes, A LOT) of piddle!

Chapter One

Yet there is this very infantile side of me, the one that at age eight actually enjoyed jumping into a cold ocean and eating gummy worms as a dietary staple, which sometimes takes hold of my mind and causes a momentary lapse in adult judgment. Its at just such a carefree, and I might say, slightly insane moment that the right set of little doe eyes caught mine and convinced me that having a new puppy was a stupendous idea.

The Tail

Mother bear had officially come out of hibernation. I pulled Tully towards my chest and clutched him tightly. What did this scarlet Sasquatch plan to do?! I cleared my throat. Im certain my eyes were the size of dinner plates. Tullys were saucers, at minimum. I assure you maam, hes just a little puppy. See? I held Tully out again, hopeful to save him from an uncomfortable fate. He wriggled in my hands, his still-wormy belly thankfully providing me plenty to hold on to. Suddenly a white light crept into the space between the security officer and me. Bringing with her scents of lilac and honey, a fair skinned woman of perhaps thirty-five entered the scene and placed herself in between us. Her voice was unfitting, with a Bostonian accent, as she asked Whatchya got Doris? Search. Doris explained, her glove snapping in place. Both Tully and I cringed. Ah nah, dont think theres any need for that our angel of mercy replied. Her pale pink lips made an upward curl as

she regarded Tully clinging to my chest like a koala bear. I thought I saw a flare of hatred flicker in Doriss eyes as she regarded her superior. Humph. If you say so, Jo. she spat, motioning us through the metal detector. It stood like the gateway to heaven, and a band of light entering through a nearby window cast a halo-like ring atop Jos head as she ushered us through. I felt like a mother who had just rescued her child from a burning building as Tully and I made our way to the other side unscathed. My sweet, wonderful little boy, were safe - safe! I gushed while we made our way towards the boarding gate and eventually the plane. Safely seated onboard the jet and feeling my inner-child had known what she was doing all along, I tucked Tully and his carrier securely under my seat. He wailed the entire flight home.

Tully came to me from a stellar and highly recommended breeder based in the Spokane, WA area. Id done all of my homework, waded through the gamut of prospective lines, and I arrived at the one I reasoned would produce the optimum combination of both health and temperament that I was seeking. I waited like an expectant father outside the delivery room, handing out virtual email cigars to all my friends and family as Tully and his siblings brewed in his mothers belly. When, on June 28, 2010, six little brindle bundles and one black mask fawn boy popped out, I knew my guy instantly. It was an excruciating eight week wait from there, but when the day finally came to fly out and pick up my new son, I felt entirely prepared. Something about Tully being such a distance from me, kept my panic-prone mind in check and prevented the inevitable onslaught of logical thinking that would normally intrude my dreamy, long-distance romance with a pup Id never met. It had been years since Id had a pup so when Tullys breeder handed over what could have been a guinea pig, I found myself quaking. Were my other frenchies EVER so tiny? So wiggly? So whiny? Oh, but those eyes! Those haunting, honey-brown eyes met with mine and told me Im worth it. I smiled and stowed my precious cargo in a carrier slung over my shoulder. Peeking down at this minuscule bundle, I put my

index finger up to the mesh separating us. Tully regarded me thoughtfully, with an expression wise beyond his weeks, and lifted his paw to meet it. I was done for! We headed back to the airport terminal, now an inseparable duo. As we approached the security checkpoint, I heard a squeak from my bag. Glancing at my new son, I followed his line of sight towards a robust redhead with a badge, who was grimacing at a womans bag as she passed it through the security scanner. I gulped as we approached her station. And just what do we have here? she barked, eyeing Tully, who had retreated to the rear of his carrier. Just a pup, maam, I chimed, smiling cautiously. Big Red snarled. Why couldnt she have been an animal lover? Youll remove it from the bag, please. I unzipped the carrier with a tremble, which brought Tully warily towards my previously welcoming hand. He peeked from its depths, his eyes darting from my face to hers. Come on, honey, I crooned. Big Red snorted. Or was that a bull I heard? Tullys round little body was so delicate in my hands. He wobbled like a top as I presented him to the security officer. See, just a puppy, I assured. Uh huh. She was eyeing him as if he were a discounted cut of meat as she reached for a pair of latex gloves on the table beside her. Well just see about that.

Kris Kibbee (Castle Rock, WA) is a Pacific Northwest native with a love of language and dogs. While attending Washington State University she studied in the Professional Writing program and was a contributing writer to The Vancougar. An avid animal welfare advocate and experienced dog trainer, Kris has a contagious affection for French bulldogs and shares her home with two of the mischievous mongrels. She will be writing about the adventures of Dewey! Kris Kibbee twofrenchies@hotmail.com