When Sweety the Puppy was born, she was the tiniest little ball of brown fur you ever did see. She fit right into the palm of your hand. And she loved to lick your face with her teeny pink tongue. Her kisses were warm and tickly and full of love. Sweety was a perfect name for this happy pup. It had been given to her by her owner and best friend, Ashley, a seven year old young lady with long brown hair and sky blue eyes.

Sweety's ancestors were among the best hunting dogs of Kings and Emperors alike. They could stay on the trail for a whole day without ever getting distracted. Sweety's great great great grandfather, Lord Rutherford the Bold, was a legendary champion showdog. Despite his reputation as a real snob, Sweety was very proud of him and often talked to him in her dreams.

A painting of Lord Rutherford covered half the living room wall. The artist had captured the royal position which the famous dog liked to assume whenever he was in a good mood. Sweety would often sleep beneath the giant painting, as though guarding the memory of her beloved ancestor. He was as near to fame and glory as the little pup thought she would get. Little did she know!

Sweety lived with Ashley and her Mom and Dad in a big house in the country. The pup came to know lots of fellow animals, especially Fred the old cat who thought Sweety was his very own child.

The happy pup slept on Ashley's bed, curled up at her feet. Every morning, at six a.m. sharp, Sweety would stretch and crawl up to her friend's sleeping face. She would then give her two quick licks on the tip of her nose. Ashley would yawn, caress the down-like softness of her puppie's head, and greet the new day with a radiant smile brightening her rosy cheeks. Sweety would follow her to the back door and bounce out into the morning dew, ears flopping in the cool breeze.

Life was sweet and simple for the first several months of her life. When Ashley was at school, Sweety stayed in the kitchen with Mom and hoped that just one little piece of whatever she was cooking would fall to the floor. Sweety liked everything: cherry pies, carrots, mashed potatoes, spaghetti. You name it, she ate it. Or rather, you drop it, she caught it.

Sweety was always getting into trouble. If she wasn't chewing on Dad's favorite chair or Mom's sowing table, she was rummaging through the wastebaskets for something interesting

to chew on. In fact, chewing seemed to be her one and only hobby after eating and sleeping. Other then chasing Fred the Cat, of course. But no one could hold that against her. Dogs are supposed to chase cats and if they don't they are considered downright undogly.

The other big trouble which little Sweety created was the whole issue of shoe destruction. There wasn't a shoe on the whole farm which didn't have teethmarks in it. And they clearly weren't teethmarks of the owners. Even Dad's shiny Sunday shoes which were always kept in a box until the day when the bells rang across the valley and he dressed in his suit. Whenever Sweety heard the gentle echo of church bells, she would race into the master bedroom and look for the special footwear. She was especially fond of shiny shoes. They were much more fun to tear up than old farm boots. The taste of fresh leather was a delicacy for the pup. Or was it that she enjoyed hearing Dad let out that high-pitched sound which reminded her so much of the happy squeelings coming from the farmyard? Of course, she would have to run for her life when that melodious shriek shook the windows. And sometimes Dad would catch her. But Sweety was never really worried because she knew she could count on Mom to save her and scold him for so mistreating the cutest puppy in the world.

Dinner time was Sweety's favorite time of day. As far as she was concerned, dinner time was all the time. Whether it was in the kitchen when Mom baked such marvelous goodies, or in the TV room where Ashley had her meals while watching the TV, or in the dining room where crumbs never failed to find their way to the carpet, the pup was forever on the look-out for human food. She could simply not understand why her mistress kept filling her bowl with these dry little pebbles which somebody apparently thought were good for dogs, and then fill the house with incredible aromas which nearly drove Sweety crazy. Who wants tasteless bits of artificial food, no matter how many vitamins they contain, when the real thing is being served up just a few feet away?

So Sweety's days were devoted to getting ahold of as many mouthfulls of the good stuff as possible. She had several strategies for accomplishing this. She had learned who dropped the food and where it landed during mealtime. For instance, at breakfast, she could always count on cereal making its way onto the carpet. It was a very strange thing. Maybe it was the way we held the spoon while watching the tv in the morning. There was always a tasty bite of wholesome fiber to be found in and around the morning. Lunch was even easier because Mom would watch her soap operas and forget that her plate was on the TV tray which Sweety could reach by standing on her hind legs. Dinner was a little tougher because the family ate at the big dinning room table which was way beyond her reach. That was when she would do the silent look routine. Throughout the whole dinner, she would sit motionless at the feet of a likely candidate and watch him or her eat every bite. She wouldn't make a sound but just watched with those pleading eyes of hers which could make the meanest person in the world feel guilty.

She knew that it was only a matter of time because she had never met a human would could resist "the look." Only one person was oblivious to her skills: Grandma Green, Ashley's ninety year old great grandmother who could be as crotchety as the wicked witch of the west, especially in the early morning, the early afternoon, and in the late evening. Sweety had given up on her long ago, though she still enjoyed chewing up her embroidery when she had the chance.

The little pup would have been happy to grow old with this loving family in a land where the air was fresh and the waters clear. But one day, something happened which forced Sweety out of the kitchen and sent her into a new life.

Mom was in the midst of making a special cinnamon apple tart and Sweety was patiently waiting for something to fall off the counter. Suddenly a loud, terrible noise exploded in the nearby woods. The pup leaped two feet in the air and flew between Mom's feet.

"Don't be frightened, Sweety. That was just a gunshot. It's hunting season."

Mom lifted the trembling pup into her arms and took her to the window. Another loud noise echoed across the countryside, then another and another. Sweety began to moan in a high pitched, pitiful sound.

"What's the matter, puppy?" Mom asked, gently petting her shiny brown coat.

Something was indeed troubling Sweety. Each gunshot seemed to stir an ancient memory stored away in the recesses of her instincts. Her hunting dog inheritance was suddenly awakening within her. But it wasn't the desire to race after some poor prey and corner it in a field where her master could then kill the trapped and exhausted creature. Though Sweety carried within her the memory of generations of hunting dogs and the destruction of countless wildlife, these distant feelings made her feel very sad.

She jumped out of Mom's arms and scurried through the house, seeking for a place to hide from the memories of the hunt.

She cowered under a coffee table beneath the great painting of Lord Rutherford the Bold. Sweety covered her head with her fluffy *aws and hoped it would all go away. But the gunshots kept breaking the gentle silence of the countryside. Her whole body trembled and she thought she would die of sadness. But suddenly, a voice resounded in her troubled mind.

"Go out there and save them, Sweety..."

She looked up in amazement and cocked her head to the side the way she always did when she was observing something strange.

"You've got the best nose in the business. Use it for good!"

There was something special about the voice. It took away her fear and made her feel that everything would be allright. It was as soothing as the caresses Ashley gave her before she fell asleep at night. Sweety looked around and sniffed the air. But no scent betrayed the presence of the owner of the voice.

The pup came out from under the coffee table. Her eyes fell on the painting of her ancestor.

"You can do it, Sweety! You can save that frightened animal out there!"

Sweety suddenly realized that the voice was coming from inside her head and belonged to none other than Lord Rutherford the Bold!

Without a second thought, she raced to the back porch, and wagged her little stump of a tail the way she did when she needed to go out to answer Nature's call. The diligent Mom opened the door for her and out went Sweety, dashing toward her first adventure.

There was fog across the land that autumn morning and the grass was heavy with dew. But the pup hardly noticed. She was following an urge stronger than any instinct that had ever motivated her.

Her ears flapping in the breeze like furry flags, Sweety dashed across the field. She came to the meadow and suddenly realized that something was wrong. Or actually something was right. The gunshots had stopped. Bird songs filled the air and all seemed at peace. Sweety felt rather silly at having imagined that her ancestor had called her to some kind of heroic mission.

She was, after all, just a cute little puppy. Heroics were for german shepherds or saint Bernards, not fluffy cocker spaniels with wild imaginations.

She was about to return home with her tail between her legs, if her tail had been long enough to do so, when she heard a movement in the woods. It was Ashley! She was out looking for mushrooms for her Mom's famous mushroom soup. The puppy's tail went out of control as she scurried to her mistress. She jumped up on her hind legs and placed her front paws on the little girl's arm. That was her way of expressing how happy she was to see her.

"What are you doing out here, Sweety?" Ashley asked as she scratched her pet behind the ears. "Would you like to join me on my walk?"

Sweety barked joyfully and leaped ahead of her as though leading the way.

"This way, Sweety!" Ashley called out, laughing.

They headed off through the meadow. Ashley was busy looking for mushrooms while Sweety sniffed out every aroma offered by Mother Nature when they came upon a terrible sight. On the edge of the woods, near the old barn which had outlived its usefulness, Sweety found a little spotted doe. She was laying on her side and breathing heavily. Her front hoof was caught in a trap set by one of the hunters who came through Dad's fields in search of victims. Sweety whimpered and howled at the sight, feeling the fear and pain which the beautiful creature was in. The pup tried to pull at the trap but it only made things worse. So she raced back to Ashley and barked at her like she had never barked before.

They returned to the deer and were struggling with the horrible device when a hunter appeared from the woods.

"What do you think you're doing?" he shouted in an angry voice.

"This little deer is in pain. We've got to help her," Ashley cried out.

"That's my deer! I caught her!"

"It's not your deer!" the independent-minded young lady replied. "She belongs to God!"

"Right," the hunter muttered as he came up to the wounded animal and examined it. "Now scram!"

Ashley didn't move and Sweety started barking at the big man.

"Get outta here, kid! And take your stupid dog with you!" the man growled.

"Sweety's not stupid! I've taught her how to obey five commands and she's only six months old!"

"That's great. Now go home!"

He cocked his rifle. Ashley barely held back a scream.

"You're not going to shoot her, are you?"

"No, I'm going to take her dancing with me," the hunter answered sarcastically as he aimed his weapon.

"Don't do it!" Ashley shouted.

Sweety leaped at the man's pantleg and shook it like she did the old rag doll which Ashley had given her.

"Get that dog off of me!"

"Let the deer go free."

"Are you crazy? I can get fifty dollars for it!"

"I've got fifty cents in my piggy bank. I'll give you fifty cents to let her go."

"I'll hit your dog on the head with my shotgun if it doesn't leave my pants alone!"

Ashley was suddenly afraid that the man might hurt her pup. Anyone who had no feelings for a beautiful little deer trembling with fear could do just about anything!

"Sweety, come here!"

Sweety wagged her tail and kept on shaking her head as she clamped down on the hunter's pantleg.

"We're not playing now, Sweety. Come here!"

But the pup wouldn't let go. She wasn't playing either.

"I take it that's not one of the commands you've taught your dog to obey!" the hunter roared. "I'm going to count to three and if you don't get the mut off of me, I'll break every bone in its body!"

This really scared Ashley. She ran up to Sweety and tried to pry her jaws open. But she knew that was hopeless. Sweety was as stubborn as ever and once she had decided to hold onto something, there was no letting go until she felt like it.

The hunter raised his rifle to strike Sweety on the heard.

"Don't hurt my puppy!" Ashley shouted.

She ran up to the man and kicked him in the shin as hard as she could. This wasn't just your ordinary kick. Ashley was the captain of her school's soccer team and she could hit a ball so hard that it would fly halfway across the field. It was that kind of a kick which she sent into the man's leg bone.

The hunter yelled louder than Sweety had ever heard a man yell before. It was even louder that when Dad found his expensive shoes nibbled from one end to the other. Sweety let go of the pants as the man jumped up and down, holding his sore leg.

"Come on, Sweety!!"

Ashley ran toward the house, closely followed by her best friend.

"I'll get you for this!" the hunter cried out as he fell back in the grass, rolling around with his bruised leg.

* * *

The incident was forgotten. Ashley went back to school and Sweety slept at Mom's feet while she sowed. But soon the gunshots began to rumble across the fields once again and Sweety heard her ancestor's voice between her ears. She hurried to his picture and barked.

"What's the matter with you?" Mom asked. "Are you barking at that painting again?"

Sweety wagged her tiny tail as if it were going to fly off.

"Do you want to go out?"

Mom let the eager pup out the back door. Sweety headed straight for the woods. She didn't know where she was going but she knew she had to go there. Fortunately, when you're a dog, you don't have to stop and analyze the logic of your actions. Sweety was simply responding to the strange voice urging her on. How her ancestor could talk to her and what exactly he hoped to accomplish through his teeny descendant was not an issue. The important thing was that this was the first time in her life that she did anything for a purpose other than chomping down on stolen goodies.

As she came near the woods, a series of gunshots went off again. Sweety cowered behind a tree. The terrible sounds were too close for comfort. Within moments, a hunter appeared from the underbrush. He had a distinct limp and Sweety recognized him as the man whose pantleg she had wrestled with a few days before. Ahead of him ran a fat rabbit, completely out of breath. The pup wasn't sure what to do. She hoped that maybe the great Rutherford would help her out a little. But nothing came to her mind. She realized that she was on her own. Her ancestor had the strange power to motivate her, but apparently was not willing to let her in on the details of what to do once she had answered the call.

The rabbit hopped right by her. Sweety saw the terror in her eyes. The poor thing was about to collapse. Without considering the consequences, Sweety leaped out from behind the tree and growled as fiercely as she could. Unfortunately, it didn't impress the hunter much. On the contrary, he seemed pleased to meet up with her again. Before Sweety could let out a really serious bark, the man had grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and lifted her off the ground. He held her up to take a good look at her.

"You're cute but stupid, dog. Haven't you learned not to attack an enemy that's bigger than you?"

Sweety growled as best she could, swinging her paws around as though she were swimming for dear life.

"What am I going to do with you?" the big man wondered. "Do cocker spaniels make good barbecue?"

Meanwhile, the bus which brought Ashley from school squeeked to a stop in front of her home. The young lady jumped out and ran into her house. She didn't even take the time to tell her friends goodbye as was her daily habit. She had heard the gunshots and knew that Sweety would be in big trouble if she ran into the hunter again.

Ashley dashed into the living room as the screen door slammed behind her.

"Where's Sweety?"

"How about a hello to your Mom first, young lady. I know you love your pup, but I'm the one who cooks your meals."

"Hi, Mom." Ashley said hurriedly as she kissed her on the cheek. "Where's Sweety?"

"Out back. Is there a problem?"

"Yes! The hunters are back!"

"They're back every season, dear. What's the big deal?"

Ashley hesitated. She realized it might be difficult to explain what had happened the other day. Her parents had brought her up not to kick anybody. In fact, it was strictly forbidden.

Ashley ran to the back door.

"Don't you want a brownie?" Mom asked, surprised. Her daughter always had a snack upon returning from school.

Ashley hurried through the backyard. There was no trace of Sweety. She ran into the meadow. That's when she heard a little yelp, a yelp she knew very well.

"Sweety!" she cried out as she dashed toward the woods.

But when she got there, there was no one to be found. Tears filled her eyes as she went from tree to tree, searching for her favorite creature in the world. Being first in her class when it came to smarts, Ashley decided to run back to the house and call the sheriff. She knew that kidnapping, or pupnapping in this case, was a serious crime.

Before her Mom could stop her and demand an explanation, Ashley dialed the emergency number.

"Yes, that's right. Somebody kidnapped my dog. At gunpoint...He's big and ugly and has a nasty bruise on his right shin."

Soon a police car pulled up to the house and the sheriff stepped out. Being a dog lover himself, and up for re-election, he had decided to take the case personally. For an hour, Mom and Ashley and the sheriff combed the woodland. The only sign of life was a fat little bunny who kept bothering them by hopping up and down and pointing in the direction of the river.

"You have obnoxious rabbits in these parts," the sheriff observed, proud of his knowledge of animal behavior. Before becoming sheriff, he had wanted to be a vetenarian and so had learned a great deal about the ways of four legged beings. But after repeated viewing of "Lassie" episodes, he had decided to go into law enforcement. That scene with the mare giving birth was too much for him, even though Lassie had saved the day again. Besides, he was short and wearing a gun made him feel three feet taller.

"Let's check by the river!" Ashley suggested, choosing not to reveal that she thought the rabbit was pointing the way. She knew adults only too well and that kind of story was enough to make them mad and dangerously confused.

Reluctantly, they headed toward the river. The sheriff was irritable because his nice shiny leather boots were going to get muddy. Mom, however, was a trooper and loved Sweety as much as her daughter did. She tied her hair in a pony tail to avoid the thorns and thistles and gamely followed along.

"I don't know about this," the sheriff stated in a grim mood. "There's quicksand in these parts."

"That didn't stop you when you were looking for that escaped convict," Mom pointed out.

"That was different."

"Saving a little puppy also makes good copy in the newspaper," Mom reminded the publicity-conscious lawman.

They were almost at the river bank when they heard a small bark. Ashley let out a squeal of joy.

"It's Sweety!"

"You sure?" the sheriff questioned, hoping he wouldn't have to tromp through the oozing mud covering the banks.

"That's our pup allright," Mom insisted. "Isn't it the cutest bark you've ever heard?"

"Right," muttered the sheriff as they hurried through the mud.

They made their way through the underbrush and came upon an astonishing sight. There was Sweety, barking her little head off, having a great time circling the big bad hunter who was sprawled in a bed of quicksand, hanging onto a low branch.

"Get me outta here!" he begged pitifully.

"What were you doing with my puppy?" Ashley called out angrily.

"Help me, please," the hunter pleaded.

The sheriff broke off a strong branch and was about to hand it to him when Mom stepped in front of him.

"Answer my daughter, mister! Why did you take our pup way out here?"

"Uuuh...She followed me..."

"No, she didn't," Ashley shouted. "You were going to drown her!"

"No, I wasn't!" the man said as he sank a little further into the sand.

"You were too!" the bold little girl insited.

"Wait a minute! I know you!" the sheriff stated with renewed enthusiasm. "You're that poacher I've been looking for these past months!"

"No, I'm not!"

"Don't lie to me! I've got your picture in my car."

"No, you don't!"

The sheriff threw the branch aside.

"Let him sink!" he said, winking at Ashley.

"Okay! Okay! I'm him! I mean, it's me!"

"What about the pup?" the sheriff questioned sternly.

"The kid's right...I was going to throw it in the river."

"Why?" Mom shouted out. She was really mad now. Anyone who messed with her loved ones was in for real trouble.

"It wouldn't leave me alone!"

"Let him sink!" Mom cried out.

"Mom!" Ashley said, surprised. She had always known her mother to be a sweet brownie-baker.

"Sorry, I can't do that," the sheriff stated, remembering the part of the law that said something about not letting people sink in quicksand, even if they are bad. "But don't worry. He'll be in jail for a long time. Attempted doggy drowning is a serious misdemeanor."

He pulled the man out of the quagmire. The hunter lay on his stomach and tried to catch his breath. Sweety dashed over to him and bit him on the nose.

"Ow!"

Ashley picked her pup up in her arms, laughing.

"Sorry about that, mister. You shouldn't leave your nose where she can reach it."

"Let's be respectful now," Mom pointed out as she moved her daughter away and carefully stepped on the man's red nose.

"Ow!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Mom said with feeling.

That evening, Dad was told the whole story, including the part about kicking the bad tempered poacher in the shin. He tried not to laugh too loud and stated as seriously as he could:

"You really shouldn't do things like that, Ashley. You could hurt your foot."

The family ordered a giant pizza with everything on it in celebration of the happy ending of this story. Fred the Cat, who had nothing to do with any of this, was given the anchovies just because, and Sweety was treated to a hero's feast of sausage and pepperoni on an extra thick crust.

The pup took the choicest piece and left it under the portrait of her ancestor Rutherford the Bold, who had started it all, just in case his ghost could eat as well as inspire his descendants with such wild ideas as saving their fellow animals from random destruction. A photographer came to take a picture of Sweety while she ate her pizza and she made the front page of the newspaper. This was the first time that the town honored a cocker spaniel for heroic action. And it would not be the last. In fact, the very next morning...But that's another story.