Sniffing Mr. Sniff

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
An almost Shakespearean drama focused on the basset hound, Bread.

Submitted: April 28, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: April 28, 2017




Sniffing Mr. Sniff


‘Daddy, can I sniff that other dog’s butt?’

‘That’s a husky, son. We don’t mix well with their sort.’

‘Why not, daddy?’

Mr. Sniff sniffed and ruffled his coat. ‘We are proud basset hounds. They are but huskies. Long hairs and short hairs don’t have much in common.’

‘But I can smell his butt from here, he had chicken chunks for dinner just like us.’

‘I smell it too son and delectable though it smells, a short hair does not simply sniff the butt of a long hair. We have standards to maintain. Resist.’

Bread’s ears drooped so low they trailed across the ground. He stuck his nose into the air and wiggled his snout, breathing in those chunky chicken molecules. Bread looked at the husky’s butt with longing.

‘Go sniff your brother’s butt,’ said Mr. Sniff. ‘Where is Fred, anyway? I’ve not seen him since he laid claim to that rather fetching stick.’

‘I think he’s still chewing on it, daddy,’ said Bread.

‘Find him. Sniff his butt. Chew his stick. Snap at his tail. Do what dogs do, but do not approach the husky.’

‘Ok, daddy.’

Bread trotted through the field, tail wagging and drool dripping. Various humans walked about the place, and some of them called out to him. He meandered over to one and he allowed her to tickle his belly and marvel over his floppy ears. One human lifted both of his ears up and shook them, and the other humans found the image so funny they cried. Bread wagged his tail and gave three short sneezes. Then he left them and resumed the hunt for his brother. His nose pulled him along, attached to the trail of scent as if on rails, and he found Fred hiding under some bushes, chewing on a branch. Bread eyed it enviously - where did Fred find such a beauty?  

‘What you doing, Fred?’

‘Chewing a stick,’ said Fred. ‘Wanna partake?’

‘Yeah,’ said Bread.

‘Tough,’ said Fred, and he picked up the stick and wandered deeper into the undergrowth with it.

Freeeeed,’ said Bread. He scampered in after his brother.

‘You cannot have my stick,’ said Fred. ‘I found it and I also peed on it.’

‘Oh, you didn’t,’ whined Bread.

‘I did. I want all the other dogs to know that this is my stick and it’s mine.’ He chewed savagely.

Bread’s eyes drooped. ‘I’m gonna find another stick and it’s gonna be bigger and tastier than yours and I’m gonna pee all over it and then eat it and you’re gonna wish you could have some.’

Fred barked in amusement. ‘You won’t find one as good as this. Go on, get out of here before I bite your butt.’

Bread removed himself from the undergrowth and immediately began scouring the field. He found a few sticks, sure, but utterly inferior to the Fred’s. Fred’s stick splintered with every satisfying crunch, and all the sticks Bread found were either too small, too tough, or both. It would shame him to show off such a stick to his brother - Fred would laugh at him. The search continued. It was interspersed with bouts of squirrel hunting and poop sniffing and after twenty minutes he knew his brother was right – Fred had laid claim to the best stick in the park.

That was when he saw it.

Not a stick – a tennis ball. The ball was simply sitting out in the open – it was like finding a bag of treats with no human witnesses. Bread galloped towards it and scooped the ball up in his chops. The ball was tattered and it had a tear in the middle, but tattered tennis balls beat marvelous sticks any day of the week. Wait until Fred sees this. Fred’s jaw would drop and Bread would show it to daddy and he would say, ‘my, what a fine tennis ball you have there, son. Much better than Fred’s stupid stick.’ And then Fred would cry because his stick was actually pretty dumb when you thought about it.

‘That’s my ball,’ said a voice.

Bread whipped around and saw a puppy about his age – a husky.  

‘It’s my tennis ball now,’ Bread said through a mouthful of tennis ball.

The husky let out a high whine and sticking his butt in the air, gave it a good wiggle.

‘What is that noise?’ asked Bread.

‘I’m making doggy noises,’ said the husky.

‘Dogs bark, they don’t make whiny noises like that.’

‘I am a husky. Huskies howl and whine all the time. We like to do it.’

‘I don’t like the noise,’ said Bread. ‘It’s dumb. And huskies are dumb.’

‘You’re mean,’ said the husky. ‘Gimme my ball!’

‘I will not give you the ball.’

The husky whined again and squirmed his way up to Bread. He pawed at Bread’s face. ‘Surrender it!’


The husky nipped at Bread’s ear. ‘Why’s your ears so long? Are they gonna fall off?’

‘My ears are better than your stupid pointy ones.’

‘I bet you trip over your own ears all the time,’ said the husky. He nipped Bread’s ear again.

‘Cease your nipping!’ said Bread.


Bread dropped the ball and the two of them battled. Furry bodies rolled across the grass like mammoths. Bread chewed on the tail of his enemy, and his enemy took advantage of Bread’s silly ears. He pulled and tugged at them and Bread decried his inherent weakness, much to the scoffing mirth of his long-haired rival. For almost five minutes did they wriggle and chomp in a chaos of fluff and squeaks, during which humans took pictures and video recordings. This went unnoticed by the dogs, so engaged were they in the ferocity of their duel. The humans crooned over the two playing pups and chortled when the two of them scampered away. After much chasing, the two of them collapsed to the ground and panted.

‘Where did you learn to chomp like that?’ Bread asked.

‘Mumma,’ said the husky. ‘She always tells me: “When in doubt, chew. Chew like a champ!” So I chewed like a champ, because I was in doubt. Chew – that’s what we do.’ He guffawed.

Bread snort-laughed. ‘Wish I had your chewing skills.’

‘I’ll show you how to chew like a champ if you show me how to howl like a hound.’

‘You can already howl,’ said Bread.

‘Yeah, but I heard your poppa howling. I wanna howl like that.’

‘What, like this?’ Bread threw his head back and gave his very best moo-like howl. ‘Arooooooo!’

The husky’s tail mopped the grass. ‘Yeah!’ He tilted his head back: ‘Auuuuuuuuuuu!’

Bread sniggered. ‘It’s too high-pitched! Arooooooooo!’


The two puppies howled at each other for almost ten minutes before Bread gave up. Teaching the husky how to ‘arooooooo’ was impossible.

‘What’s your name?’ asked the husky.

‘I’m Bread. My brother’s Fred. My poppa’s Mr. Sniff. What’s your name?’


‘That’s a silly name.’

‘My human’s very silly,’ said Samuel.

‘Is your poppa here too?’ asked Bread.


‘I saw your poppa earlier,’ said Bread. ‘I wanted to sniff his butt but my daddy wouldn’t let me.’

‘Why not? I love sniffing butts - I sniff ‘em all the time.’ Samuel went behind Bread, stuck his nose under his tail and sniffed and snorted. ‘Smells like chicken and poop. Here, smell mine.’ He turned around and gracefully offered his own hide.

Bread stuck his nose in and inhaled greedily. ‘It smells just like my butt.’

‘I know! Our humans must buy us the same food. What’s your favourite food?’

‘I like Yummy Slop for Dum Dum Dogs, you?’

‘Yeah me too, especially the chicken and bacon gravy flavour,’ said Samuel.

Bread’s salivary glands let loose. ‘Goodness, yes. I wish I had some right now.’

Husky’s lips also began frothing. ‘Me too.’ His pupils shrunk. ‘If I had some chicken and gravy bacon bits I would… I would… gyaahhh!’ He spun in a circle. Bread joined in.

‘What in the holy mother of smelly butts is going on here?’ thundered Mr. Sniff.

‘Poppa…’ said Bread.

‘We were talking about chicken and bacon gravy,’ Samuel explained.

Mr. Sniff’s pupils contracted. ‘Yummy Slop for Dum Dum Dogs?’ he said, his salivary glands opening up like a dam. He quickly shook off his hypnotic state and said, ‘enough talk of tasty, delicious meaty chunks drenched in succulent gravy. Bread…’ he turned to his son. ‘What did I tell you about huskies? He’s a long hair.’

‘You said not to go near huskies,’ said Bread, his head low.

‘Right.’ Mr. Sniff looked at Samuel. ‘They’re not for us, son.’

‘But he’s my pal,’ said Bread. ‘He’s got a tennis ball we were playing with.’

‘Where?’ yelled Mr. Sniff. He twisted and turned and sniffed. ‘I must find it - it must be mine! I must claim it! I have to pee on it before it’s too late!’ On locating the ball he hurtled towards it, ears flying up and down like wings. He threw his jaws around it.

‘That’s my ball,’ said Samuel.

Mr. Sniff looked at him, ball in mouth. He let it drop. ‘Very well. If you already laid claim to it, I will not steal from a pup. If you were a grown dog I would definitely steal it from you though. Remember that. Come along, Bread.’

Bread and Mr. Sniff walked away, side by side.

‘You can have it,’ said Samuel.

Mr. Sniff turned back around. ‘I can have it?’

‘If you let me play with Bread still, then you can have it.’

Mr. Sniff’s eyes watered. ‘You would give me the tennis ball just so you can keep playing with Bread?’

‘Yeah, I like his ears,’ said Samuel. He trotted over and nipped at them. Bread grunted.

‘That’s the most noble sacrifice I’ve ever heard,’ said Mr. Sniff. ‘Very well, you may play with my son.’ He scooped up the tennis ball again and chewed on it, tail wagging crazily.

And so the pups did play together, and so Mr. Sniff did chew. When Fred came over with his half-demolished stick, he looked at his daddy’s cool new tennis ball.

‘Look, son,’ said Mr. Sniff. ‘I’ve got a tennis ball. It’s much better than your stupid stick.’ He slurped on it and showed off his magnificent chomping skills.

‘Daddy, let me have a go!’ said Fred.

‘It’s mine. It was a gift from a very noble, heroic and gallant young pup,’ said Mr. Sniff, and heroic indeed did Samuel look as he rolled on his back, snarling and snapping at nothing.

An adult husky arrived. ‘Good day, dogs. Wow, what a nice tennis ball and stick you pair have.’

‘Poppa!’ said Samuel. He ran over to his father and swerved in and out of his legs.

‘Are these your new friends, Samuel?’


Mr. Sniff let the tennis ball fall out of his mouth, and he moved towards the new husky. ‘The name’s Sniff. You?’

‘Winston,’ said the husky.

‘You are Samuel’s poppa?’ said Mr. Sniff.


‘Might I say what an absolutely extraordinary, unfathomably astonishing pup you have?’

Samuel snorted too hard and made himself sneeze.

‘Well,’ said Winston. ‘What makes you say that? Please do tell me all about it. But first – might I sniff your butt to get better acquainted?’

Mr. Sniff smiled. ‘Yes, sir. You may indeed sniff my butt.’








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