Bowser and Miss Kittymouser go to Lake Winsome
© AB-Kuhns 2012
Bowser and Miss Kittymouser were all packed. They had snacks, tasty treats and some fancy tins filled with surprises. There was plenty of sunscreen for their noses and lots of bug spray to keep away the critters in the woods. But best of all, Miss Kittymouser brought a bright yellow and purple blow-up raft for exploring. That would take some huffing and puffing, thought Bowser. Then there were those funny looking things called binoculars. Bowser had no idea what they were for, not yet anyway.
The sun was barely up over their tiny cottage in Buttonwillow when Miss Kittymouser woke up the pup. “Good morning, Bowser,” she said with great excitement. “it’s a fine day to begin our trip to Lake Winsome.”
Now Bowser was still sleepy-eyed. He’d stayed up all night thinking about this grand adventure, as Miss Kittymouser called it. Why, he’d never been house boating before. He’d never even seen this thing called a lake. At least until Miss Kittymouser showed him a little booklet with words he couldn’t read. It did have plenty of pictures he could dream about.
Bowser thought about the little boats chained to people whooshing through the water. He looked at the happy faces of families on the big boats. He liked the little rubber rafts bobbing gently on the lake. There were hills so high that the snow couldn’t get off the tops and come down to play. And he’d never seen so many trees in all his young life. This was going to be heaven. Oh yes, this made his stubby tail wag.
“Bowser,” shouted Miss Kittymouser as she pulled the covers off and gave him a good wake-up shake. “My goodness, you are such a sleepyhead.
“I can’t see daylight yet,” woofed Bowser. He scrambled out of his comfy dog bed and padded into the kitchen for breakfast cakes and tea with sweet sugar and thick white cream. Sometimes Bowser wished a junkyard dog had rescued him from the garbage truck instead of Miss Kittymouser. Breakfast would be juicy red meat on a big bone that would take all day to chew. And all night bury someplace safe. But, Miss Kittymouser saved his life and took very, very good care of him.
Outside the cottage a fire-engine red, one wheel drive tricycle with a peppermint-striped sidecar stood waiting. Bundles and bags were tied on with brown string and springy cords. There was barely enough room in the peppermint-striped sidecar for Bowser and his two-way canine radio.
Miss Kittymouser checked all the pockets, pouches and sticky tabs before she strapped on her green, lumpy backpack. It was bursting at the seams and gave Miss Kittymouser a slight backwards tilt as she headed for the door.
“There’s one more thing we have to do before we leave Buttonwillow. Hurry along now, Bowser,” called Miss Kittymouser
Bowser licked up the gooey icing from his paws, remembered to put his teacup in the sink and headed quick as he could out the door. “A sidecar,” he yelped as he skidded to a stop.
“What’s the matter, Bowser? Haven’t you ever seen a tricycle with a sidecar before?” Miss Kittymouser couldn’t help but grin at Bowser’s confusion.
“No, ma’am, I sure haven’t,” grumbled Bowser. But then Bowser had an idea. “If it fits you, then it’s plenty swell enough for me,” said Bowser as he climbed aboard the tricycle. But Miss Kittymouser would have none of that.
“Oh no, Bowser. You’re too young to drive and your paws would never reach the pedals,” she said as she gently pushed the stubby-tailed pup into the peppermint-striped sidecar and handed him a nifty looking pair of goggle. “Now buckle your seat belt and we’ll be off,” she meowed.
Bowser placed the goggles over his eyes and hoped that no one would recognize him. Miss Kittymouser put her paws to the pedals and they rolled forward. The sun winked at them and the bluejays squawked their goodbyes. Pretty soon the houses and the pretty green lawns of Buttonwillow passed by. And Bowser didn’t see one person laughing or pointing a finger at him. That made him happy.
Just when Bowser thought it was safe to look around, Miss Kittymouser whipped the fire-engine-red, one wheel drive tricycle into the parking lot of a motorcycle shop. Bowser nearly jumped for joy, now this was more like it, he thought. The sun sparkled off the chrome pipes of a big Harley Davidson motorcycle. Black flames danced on a gleaming red gas tank. The low rumble of motorcycles approaching was heart-stopping. Bowser was in love!
“Okay, Bowser, this is our last stop in Buttonwillow. Now hop out,” instructed Miss Kitymouser.
“Yes, yes, yes,” woofed Bowser as he leaped out of the peppermint-striped sidecar and nearly got run over. Bowser was a mutt, but he puffed up his chest as he trotted into the shop. Miss Kittymouser was right behind him, shaking her furry head.
A big man with some strange hair on his face stood behind the counter arranging shiny gold belt buckles when Miss Kittymouser spoke up. “Young man, we’d like to see some helmets if you don’t mind.”
The man looked over the counter and blinked his eyes a few times and then came out from behind the counter to get a better look.
“We are in a bit of a hurry, you see we are going to Lake Winsome to go house boating. And we’d like two helmets, if you please.”
Now Bowser was really getting excited. Maybe getting the helmets first was a good idea. Maybe he should ask Miss Kittymouser if he should unpack the fire-engine-red, one wheel drive tricycle and the peppermint-striped sidecar. Bowser sniffed around the shop, the smell of motor oil got under his skin. He could see the two of them riding like the wind as people stared and ran for cover. Rumble, rumble, rumble rang in his ears and sent little tingles up his back.
“Bowser, come and try on this helmet,” coaxed Miss Kittymouser who was wearing a sparkling helmet with stars and stripes. She held out something that looked like a bowling ball for Bowser to try on.
“Ugh,” said Bowser. “That can’t be for me.” He padded over to the shelf, climbed up and found a helmet at the very top that looked just perfect.
“That’s a German Helmutt, is that what you are looking for?” The big man had more strange drawings than Bowser had ever seen in his life, even some on his bald head. Ouch, thought Bowser.
“Yes sir,” yipped Bowser. “The one that looks like a turtle shell with a spike on top.”
Bowser jumped up and down, his stubby tail wagging with joy. He could hardly wait for the man to plop that Helmutt on his head and over his ears. It was a perfect fit.
“My goodness,” was all that Miss Kittymouser could say as she paid the big man for the helmets.
Bowser took the cash register receipt and spiked it right on top of his Helmutt. From that time on, Bowser was in charge of all the paperwork. He was one proud pup!
“Let’s go,” said Miss Kittymouser. “We want to get to Lake Winsome before dark,” she meowed.
What, no motorcycle, thought Bowser as he bounced out the door with his brand new, turtle-shaped Helmutt with that pointy spike on top. I guess this will do just fine, at least for now he mumbled to himself.
The big man from the shop watched in amazement as Miss Kittymouser climbed onto the fire-engine-red, one wheel drive tricycle and Bowser leaped into the peppermint-striped sidecar.
Miss Kitty put her paws on the pedals and they spun out of the parking lot with gravel flying. Bowser grinning from ear to ear.
Ooh gosh, thought Bowser as Miss Kittymouser left the main highway and headed up a curvy mountain road. She checked the map and she never pedaled faster than the speed limit. “We must be getting pretty close,” Bowser yelled to Miss Kittymouser who nodded her head and pedaled a little harder. A big truck full of logs nearly blew them off the road as it thundered down the mountain. It scared Bowser as it tooted a giant horn at them. The road went around and around and up and up until it stopped at a and dirt trail.
“We’ll have to roll the tricycle down to the lake,” said Miss Kittymouser as she got off and stretched her legs. ”It’s too steep to pedal.
Down the trail they went. Bowser could hardly stand the excitement. His tail waged and waged until he thought it would fall off. At the end of the trail was what they had been hoping for, Lake Winsome. It was more beautiful than all the pictures they had seen in the little booklet Miss Kittymouser had left by his bed. More beautiful than the it was in all his dreams.
They moved the tricycle onto the dock and Bowser began to look and look at everything. He looked at the little houses bobbing up and down on the water. “I wonder which one is ours,”Miss Kittymouser.” Can we get going, can we, can we,” he whined.
Two smiling men came over to greet Bowser and Miss Kittymouser and help them get started on their adventure. “The Widget’s your houseboat, ma’am. She’s a fine old boat and I’m sure you’ll have no trouble with her,” said one of the men.
“Just watch out for the bears, they like blueberries,” said the man with the keys in his hand.
Bowser hoped they didn’t pack anything bears liked, especially blueberries. He didn’t really like blueberries anyway. He watched and listened as the men gave Miss Kittymouser instructions. She took the receipt from one smiling man and spiked it on Bowser’s German Helmutt.
Miss Kittymouser quickly packed things in cupboards and drawers while Bowser ran back and forth as fast as he could. Little yelps of excitement could be heard as Miss Kittymouser turned the shiny key and started the Widget. The motor went burble, burble, burble in the lake water.
The smiling men untied the rope holding the boat to the dock and threw it to Bowser. “Good dog,” the men said as Bowser caught the rope in his teeth and gave it a good shake.
Ever so slowly the Widget backed away from the dock and headed out onto Lake Winsome. Little by little the dock faded from sight as they motored along. The sun began to slip behind the tall pines as purple and orange filled the sky.
This was just the beginning of Bowser and Miss Kittymouser’s grand adventures. Miss Kittymouser promised herself she would someday write a book about the two of them. Bowser hoped that Miss Kittymouser would someday trade-in that fire-engine-red, one wheel drive tricycle with the peppermint-striped sidecar. He knew just the place back in Buttonwillow to buy a shiny new Harley that went rumble, rumble, rumble.
– The End –
This little story came about after my husband and I took a trip to Trinity Lake to go house boating.
Do you have a pup or kitty who might look like Bowser and Miss Kitty Mouser? Or, sketch one and send me the link, please.