Rescue Mutts: Bohdi's Aspen Adventure Read online

  RESCUE MUTTS

  Bohdi’s Aspen Adventure

  Andrew Kole

  Copyright © Andrew Kole, 2017

  Cover art copyright © Andrew Kole, 2017 Rescue Mutts Press www.rescuemuttspress.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or tranmitted in any form or by an means (electronic,

  mechanical, audio recording or otherwise) without written permission of the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN # 978-0-9990915-0-0

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design & book layout by cmschuster design www.cmschuster.com

  Table of Contents

  Rescuing the Underdog

  Chapter 1: The Rescue

  Chapter 2: Bohdi the Rescue Mutt

  Chapter 3: The Westminster Dog Show

  Chapter 4: The Anniversary

  Chapter 5: Westminster Comes to Aspen

  Chapter 6: Shelter in Trouble

  Chapter 7: The Party

  Chapter 8: The Escape

  Chapter 9: The Mountain

  Chapter 10: The Journey Begins

  Chapter 11: The Mountain Fights Back

  Chapter 12: A New Leader

  Chapter 13: Trouble on the Mountain

  Chapter 14: A New Understanding

  Chapter 15: The Bowline Knot

  Chapter 16: Christmas Tree Tea

  Chapter 17: Time to Dog Up

  Chapter 18: Scaling the Peak

  Chapter 19: One More Rescue

  Chapter 20: Under Control

  Chapter 21: Looking Toward the Future

  About the Author

  Rescuing the Underdog!

  The purpose of “Rescue Mutts – Bohdi’s Aspen Adventure” is twofold: to entertain and motivate children to read, and to encourage more people to adopt dogs in need of a home.

  Through hard and diligent work by rescue organizations throughout the country, the number of stray dogs euthanized in shelters has been dramatically reduced over the last several years. Nevertheless, the number of defenseless dogs still being euthanized is horrific.

  With all due respect to the many fine, reputable breeders of pure-bred dogs, please consider adopting a dog from your local shelter or rescue organization. This rare act of kindness not only helps dogs but will enrich your life for years to come.

  We promise it will be the best thing you have ever done in your life and in the life of the dog you bring home.

  - Andrew Kole and Bohdi

  Visit us on our website www.rescuemuttspress.com and interact with us on all of our social media platforms.

  https://www.facebook.com/Bohdi-The-Rescue-Mutt-559959604188624/

  Twitter @RM_Press

  Instagram @ bohditherescuemutt

  Dedicated to all the dogs out there looking for their person.

  Chapter 1

  The Rescue

  It was typical March weather. Unpredictable. The moody grey sky was getting darker by the minute as the spring storm got closer. Snow blew fiercely across the rocky peaks. Indy, a powerful eight-year-old mixed breed, named after the character Indiana Jones, pushed his way through the deep drifts. The bright orange vest worn around his powerful chest proclaimed him a member of Aspen Search and Rescue. Indy glanced back over his shoulder at his person, Marcy Hopton, sporting her own orange search and rescue vest over her parka, following on a snowmobile. Marcy, a former Olympic skier, was the head of Aspen Search and Rescue and in charge of this expedition.

  Indy barked at Marcy, “You okay back there, boss?” Of course, Marcy didn’t really understand dog, but she knew Indy always looked out for her, and reassured him, “Keep going, boy. Don’t worry about me. Our job is to find those kids.”

  Indy understood the importance of their task. They were out searching for a pair of young teenagers who were skiing and got lost. If Indy didn’t find the kids before dark, they could freeze to death overnight on the mountain. Indy lifted his nose up to the wind and took a deep sniff… Nothing.

  He charged determinedly onward. Marcy’s snowmobile kept pace behind him. But then Indy’s sensitive ears perked up at the sound of an engine in the distance. He looked up. A helicopter roared overhead, parting the snow like a curtain. Its paint job proclaimed it the Aspen Search and Rescue chopper.

  

  Amos Hopton, a rugged mountain man with a shock of unruly white hair, expertly piloted the aircraft through the roaring mountain winds. Sitting next to him in the co-pilot seat was his fourteen-year old granddaughter, Taylor. You would never know they were family by looking at them; Taylor’s black hair and dark caramel-colored skin contrasted with her grandfather’s weather-beaten ruddiness. But family they were. Amos’ daughter Marcy adopted Taylor when she was only a few weeks old. The instant Amos laid eyes on his new baby granddaughter, he was hooked. And the two had been nearly inseparable ever since.

  The wind around them picked up speed. Caught in a down- draft, the helicopter dropped suddenly. Taylor gripped her seat hard as Amos pulled up on the controls, and banked around the snow-covered mountain.

  “Don’t worry, kiddo. Thirty-five years and I haven’t crashed

  yet.”

  “Grandpa, you backed your truck over the mailbox last week,” Taylor reminded him.

  “Yeah, but trucks don’t fly.”

  Taylor made a face at him. But she really did trust her grand- father. Amos had been piloting choppers for over forty years and had faced the worst weather conditions imaginable. He looked at the snowy mountain below. “There’s your mom and Indy,” Amos said, nodding out the window. Taylor craned her neck to peer at the miniature figures making their way across the terrain into a stand of trees and then out of sight.

  

  Standing on the snow, Indy sniffed the swirling air. “There!” With a quick bark, Indy alerted Marcy. “Indy got a scent,” she spoke into her walkie-talkie.

  Amos’ voice came crackling back, “We’re standing by.”

  Marcy looked at Indy, “Take me to them, boy!” And with a bark of delight, Indy charged off. These were the moments Indy lived for.

  A few minutes later, Indy stopped at the edge of a very steep hill and looked down. About thirty feet below, he could see the two teenage boys stuck on a ledge. One of them appeared injured. Indy barked sharply back at Marcy, “I found them, boss! Over here!”

  Marcy came to a stop twenty feet from Indy, turned the snow- mobile off, and ran over to him. Seeing the boys trapped on the ledge below, Marcy reached down and stroked Indy’s head, “Good job, Indy.” Indy puffed out his chest with pride. Marcy turned on her walkie-talkie and spoke into it. “Dad! Indy found them! We’re on Spider Ridge.”

  Spider Ridge was out of bounds for skiers, but obviously the two boys in question had decided to ignore the signs. There was a three-hun
dred foot drop to the bottom of the mountain below the rocky ledge the boys were stuck on.

  

  Amos spoke into his headset, “On our way!” He turned the copter east and headed toward Spider Ridge. It took less than 20 seconds to get there and spot the kids and Marcy, who was about to launch the dangerous rescue. Amos fought the wind as he struggled to keep the chopper hovering over the boys trapped on the ledge. He turned to Taylor, “Get the basket ready.” With a nod, Taylor slipped off her seatbelt and moved to the back of the chopper, making sure to hang on – the chopper was really bucking.

  Although she’d done this a dozen times before, it still made Taylor nervous. Taylor hooked herself into the safety line and heaved the big chopper door open. Then she readied the rescue basket. She spoke into her headset, “Basket’s ready, mom!”

  Marcy looked up at her daughter with pride as she spoke into her radio, “Roger that, kiddo, stand by.” Marcy peered over the edge to where the boys were pressed against the rocky mountain, looking terrified. She called down to them, “You guys must be Ricky and Charlie.”

  Ricky, the older of the two brothers, looked up. “Uh-huh.” Marcy smiled reassuringly at them. “I’m Marcy and this is Indy.

  And we’re going to get you out of here.”

  “Thanks,” Ricky said, relieved as much as he could be. “Are you boys hurt?” asked Marcy.

  Ricky pointed to his younger brother, “I think Charlie’s leg is broken.”

  Marcy nodded, then smiled, “Sit tight, I’m coming down.” While Indy kept watch, Marcy strapped on her climbing harness and tied a rope securely around a nearby tree. She then lowered herself carefully down to the ledge where the frightened Ricky and Charlie waited for her.

  Once there, Marcy gently helped the boys into harnesses, all the while calming their nerves by chatting to Ricky and Charlie. As soon as they were safely strapped in, she used her walkie-talkie to call up to Taylor. “Okay, honey, send the basket down.”

  

  As Taylor muscled the basket toward the open door, the helicopter lurched in the heavy wind. Taylor had to reach out and brace herself to keep from falling. She spoke into her headset. “How are we doing, Grandpa? Can we do the basket?”

  Up in front, Amos fought with the controls to keep the chopper steady. “It’s going to be dicey, but I think if we hurry –”

  “Gotcha.” Taylor shoved the basket out the door and pressed the button that controlled the winch. “Basket coming down, Mom!”

  

  On the ledge, Marcy grabbed the basket as soon as it came into her reach. She hurriedly strapped the two brothers into the basket, knowing the storm was getting worse. As soon as they were secure, Marcy called up to Taylor. “Basket away!”

  Up above, Taylor reversed the winch and the basket started to rise. Just as it was passing by Marcy’s head, a huge gust of wind caused it to swing. Indy barked out a warning! Marcy saw the swing- ing basket just in time and ducked, letting it swoop harmlessly over her head. Marcy looked gratefully at Indy. “Thanks for the warn- ing!” Indy barked again, “Just doing my job, boss.”

  The basket reached the open chopper door. Taylor grinned at the scared boys and did her best flight attendant impersonation. “Welcome aboard. I’m Taylor. I’ll be your rescue assistant today. Flying the chopper is my grandpa, Amos.”

  In unison, Ricky and Charlie replied, “Thank you!”

  Taylor continued, “It’s a little rough out here, so hang on tight. We’ll get you back to your parents in no time.” And with that, Taylor slammed the heavy chopper door shut. Amos looked down at his daughter and Indy. “All loaded up.”

  As Marcy gave Amos the double thumbs up, he and Taylor heard her voice through the tinny headsets. “Good work you guys. See you back at headquarters. Love you.”

  Taylor replied, “See you later, Mom!”

  Amos banked the helicopter to the left and flew away from the mountain. He quickly determined the shortest route back toward town.

  As Marcy quickly stowed her gear, Indy jumped into the sled tethered to the back of the snowmobile. When she finished, Marcy climbed onboard, fired up the noisy engine, and headed home.

  

  Back at the airport Taylor watched happily as Ricky and Charlie’s parents hugged and kissed the boys. Which was a bit of an awkward dance as EMTs were trying to load Charlie into the waiting ambulance at the same time.

  “You did a good job, kiddo,” said Amos proudly. Taylor was all smiles. “Thanks, Grandpa.”

  

  Marcy and Indy were about halfway down the mountain when Indy’s ears perked up. Something wasn’t right. There was a rumble in the air – much deeper than the whine of the engine. Indy barked over and over trying to warn Marcy. Finally, she stopped the engine as the rumble got louder. Human and dog then looked up and saw a wall of white snow cascading down the mountain straight toward them.

  

  Everyone at the airport involved in the search and rescue oper- ation heard a thundering boom. Taylor and Amos quickly grabbed each other’s hand, then looked up to see every mountaineer’s worst fear – an avalanche.

  Chapter 2

  Bohdi the Rescue Mutt

  The town of Aspen was laid out like a picture book. The former mining camp, with roots tracing back to the silver boom of 1879, originally named Ute City, was renamed Aspen in 1880. The picturesque community, set against the drop of Aspen Mountain was home to more than 6,800 full-time residents and thousands of weekly tourists.

  On this particular September day, like on most days, the air was crisp, the sun bright, the sky a deep blue, and the mountains a majestic green with just a hint of the gold of fall leaves starting to creep in at the edges. There was no question that Aspen was one of the most beautiful places on earth.

  Main Street Bakery was an Aspen institution. No matter what time of the year it was, locals and tourists alike scrambled to find a table on the outdoor patio to enjoy a full breakfast or munch on their croissants or blueberry muffins or powdered donuts while they drank their cup of joe or fancy lattes.

  Today, unnoticed by the patrons, a small, scrappy tri-colored mutt made up of who knows how many different kinds of terrier scurried around their feet on the hunt for breakfast. His filthy, wiry hair stuck out from his undernourished body. He didn’t wear a collar; this dog was a stray, no question about it. And that’s the way the mutt liked it. There was no one to tell him what to do. Or where to be. Or how to smell. He was totally free, and he loved it.

  The mutt worked fast under the tables, sucking up crumbs like a vacuum. He hopped over feet and dodged moving legs easily – full stealth mode. He was a true artist when it came to scavenging.

  A man dropped a piece of breakfast sandwich, and before the crust hit the ground, the mutt was there, snatching the yummy treat out of the air. With a DING the door to the café opened. A crusty career server came out holding a tray. The mutt watched, alert, as the door started to swing shut again. He knew there were messier patrons inside. More crumbs to munch. He knew there was just enough room for him to slip through the door. He made a break for it. But, the crusty server saw him coming and blocked the way.

  “No, you don’t!” the server said, with conviction, as she hustled the mutt out of the restaurant, to the sidewalk. “You’re done here. Go bother the people somewhere else.” The mutt made a mental note to himself that a very mean lady worked the early morning breakfast shift here, and it would be best to try again during lunch.

  Backing away from the cafe, the mutt bumped into three well- groomed Shih Tzus, all decked out with pink ribbons, freshly bathed, being walked on a triple leash by thei
r equally well-groomed owner.

  “It touched me,” the Bug-Eyed Shih Tzu said, horrified. “It’s probably got fleas,” added Snub-Nosed Shih Tzu. “Watch where you’re going!” Prissy Shih Tzu demanded.

  “Me watch it?... You watch it!... You got your stinky perfume all over me,” the mutt snapped, disgusted with what he had just witnessed – the demise of the dog as he knew it.

  The owner pulled her pack away, “Are you okay, babies?"

  The mutt rolled his eyes and muttered to himself, “Purebreds.

  Gotta find something really good to roll in now.” In an alley, he found a nice, stinky, sludgy brown puddle. He smiled as he rolled around in it. “Ah, that’s the stuff.”

  As the mutt continued to roll around in the sludge, a man passed by walking a large, gangly Husky-Shepherd mix. The big dog spotted the mutt in his puddle, and stopped in his tracks to savor the stench.

  The mutt saw him staring. “Oh, yeah, this is what real dogs smell like.”

  The big dog tugged on his leash, trying to get to the enticingly

  disgusting puddle. “Garbage juice! Garbage juice!” “Excellent vintage,” the mutt bragged.

  But the big dog’s owner dragged him away. The mutt felt a small

  pang of loneliness as he watched the big dog disappear down the street. But he quickly shook it off. Connections only tied you down anyway. Better to stay a solo operator.

  

  The mutt stared up at the huge Hickory House dumpster loom- ing over him. Aspen’s number one barbecue joint had the best trash in town. The smoky smell from the leftover scraps filled the air. He savored the aroma. “Lunch.”