TABLE OF CONTENTS
1. STORY 1 – PRELUDE
2. STORY 2 – THE ARRIVAL OF CRICKET. REVENGE ON THE RACCOON
3. STORY 3 – CRICKET’S TALE
4. STORY 4 – CRICKET DEMONSTRATES HIS POWER
5. STORY 5 – ONE NIGHT
6. STORY 6 – CAMPING ON THE ISLAND
7. STORY 7 – THE MARCH OF THE WOLVES
8. STORY 8 – THE CONTINUATION OF CRICKET’S TALE
9. STORY 9 – SCARING OF A THIEF
10. STORY 10 – A BOY IN TROUBLE
11. STORY 11 – ADVENTURE IN THE GHOST TOWN
12. STORY 12 – HALLOWEEN
13. STORY 13 – THE TERRIFYING NIGHT
14. STORY 14 – THE ESCAPE
15. STORY 15 – THE SHAMAN: LISTENING FOREST
16. STORY 16 – RUN, ALICE, RUN (PART 1)
17. STORY 17 – RUN, ALICE, RUN (PART 2)
18. STORY 18 – THE STORY OF THOMAS
19. STORY 19 – LONE BIRD
20. STORY 20 – THE WITCHES’ PLAN
21. STORY 21 – THE POLICE RAID
22. STORY 22 – THE SHAMAN’S REVENGE
23. STORY 23 – THOMAS'S ESCAPE
24. STORY 24 – EPILOGUE
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Stоry 1. Prelude
Told by Bella
I’m Bella—a big black dog. Not just big, very big. And beautiful. I’m two years old, long-legged, and well-proportioned—almost a perfect square. A mix of Labrador and Mastiff. Completely black.
I notice everything. I understand a lot. My owners say I’m smart. They love me. And I’m a skilled swimmer—after all, Labradors are my ancestors.
I came to my owners almost by chance. Annie, who would become my owner, came to the breeder where I lived with my siblings. She told them:
“I need a big, strong, black dog. But one that’s good with children.”
Then she explained:
“Last night, someone tried to break into our house. It scared us. I live alone with my daughter. I need a muscular dog—one that will love and protect children.”
The breeder pointed to us.
“Take your pick. These will grow big and strong. Beautiful black coats. They make splendid companions and won’t let anyone harm your child.”
Annie chose me.
I liked my new home right away. Annie and her daughter, Alice, love dogs. They spoil us sometimes, but they also make sure we follow the rules. They taught us basic commands.
Then Thomas appeared in our lives. At first, I thought he was just Annie’s friend. But when he stayed around, started feeding me in the mornings, and training me, I realized—he was my owner too.
I also have a friend—Lola. Though our owners often call her “Lo.” I guess they like it that way. And I’m Bella. Sounds nice, doesn’t it? Bella!
They got Lo just for me—so I wouldn’t be bored. Before that, I used to dig holes and chew on any boots I could find. I had no idea what to do with myself. I was so bored.
Thomas—more about him later—understood. He didn’t punish me for my mischief. Instead, one day, he brought me a friend. In a box.
It was pure joy!
We live in a cozy doghouse in the backyard—a luxury two-dog kennel, built by our owner. Our names are carved above the entrance. The walls are insulated. There’s a heated mat, soft bedding, and even a heat lamp above. It’s warm and comfortable, even in winter. But when it gets really cold, they let us inside the house.
I’m almost two years old. Lo is only eight months. But she’s an English Mastiff! Not some tiny terrier you can’t see under a chair. At eight months, she’s already almost as big as me. She’s brindle-colored and moves like a tiger—silent, smooth, flexible. Like a model, my girl.
Lo is incredibly strong. A little smaller than me, but powerful. Still a bit clumsy, but she’s learning fast. We’re like sisters. We wrestle sometimes, but just for fun. Our fights are like elephant battles—at least, that’s what our owner says.
Our owner is Thomas. Annie’s partner. He feeds us in the mornings, takes us on walks, and spends the most time with us. He’s our boss. He teaches us a lot. Commands and everything.
Thomas is young—just over thirty. Handsome face, athletic build, strong, always moving. He does things around the house—fixes things, types on his small computer. He doesn’t tolerate mess… When he’s with us, we can feel it in our bones—he must be obeyed.
In the mornings, he drives off in his truck. A covered pickup. Sometimes he has to work far away, and he’s gone for days. We miss him when he’s not around.
But he’s kind. Loves us a lot. Even though he pretends to be strict. We feel guilty when he scolds us. I once told Lo, “Don’t chew on the owner’s slippers.”
Annie is our mistress. A young woman—tall, slender, dark-haired. Her face is well-defined, high cheekbones. She has her own business—she’s a psychologist. Always smiling, very pleasant. She plays with us, takes us on walks. She’s kind and loves us.
And we would protect her with our lives.
And then there’s Alice. Their daughter. Our favorite. She’s nine. She has delicate features and long blonde hair—always braided. A real beauty. And athletic, too. She loves climbing trees, running, jumping.
She’s more like a boy—restless, mischievous, not always obedient. She gets scolded often. Sometimes Annie punishes her—not letting her go out with friends. Alice cries.
And we feel lost, whimpering, trying to cheer her up.
It’s pure happiness being with Alice. She spoils us. Brings us treats.
“Here, doggies, some meat and fat from the table.”
For us, giant dogs, it’s just a bite—but it’s the thought that counts. We adore her. Lick her face. She giggles and tries to push us away. But we let her do anything—lie on us, play with our ears, roll us over.
The best time is when we sprawl on the grass, and Alice flops on top of us like a mattress. We all gaze at the starry sky. Then Annie calls, “Alice, come inside!”
And we know—Alice would love to stay with us a little longer.
What else can I tell you about our life?
Yes, we wrestle a lot, Lo and I. Too much energy to burn. But if another dog dares to attack one of us—well, they won’t like what happens next.
At the dog park, I usually run freely. Lo, though, stays on a leash. If some dog barks at me, Lo charges in and flattens the poor thing. Lo may look clumsy, but she isn’t. She’s fast. Agile. And those jaws… those teeth… Best not to anger her.
We live in a beautiful place. A small valley town, surrounded by hills. Snow-capped mountains in the distance. Huge, long lakes stretching between the peaks.
On a still day, the lakes become perfect mirrors, reflecting the mountains. Unbelievably beautiful. Feels like there’s no better place on Earth.
The owners’ house is small but cozy. And the backyard—our territory. Two huge dogs in charge. There are chickens, ducks, and quails too. They have their own fenced-off area and a little house.
And we love quail eggs.
Every evening, Thomas comes out with quail eggs. We know he’s bringing them. We start wagging, excited. Lo nibbles my ear.
Thomas lifts two fingers—“Sit.”
We sit. Lo on his right, me on his left. Our tails thump the ground impatiently. I always get the first egg. Then Lo. He places them right in our mouths. We crush them and swallow.
So delicious.
Then he pets us, scratches our ears. Tells us we’re the best dogs ever.
And in that moment, we know—this is true happiness.
Story 2. The Arrival of Cricket. The Revenge on the Raccoon
Told by Bella
Everything would have been perfect—if not for that raccoon. A real troublemaker.
He loved sneaking around our yard at night, shouting insults at us from behind the fence. At first, we used to chase along the fence, barking back. But our owner didn’t like that. He would wake up, come outside, and send us back to our house.
We understood why—people in the neighborhood were sleeping. But oh, how we wanted to teach that raccoon a lesson!
The little rascal knew we couldn’t reach him, so he taunted us almost every night, calling us all sorts of names in his raccoon language. If I were to translate from raccoon-speak, it would go something like this:
"You two are pathetic, useless dogs! Ha-ha-ha! Can’t even catch an old raccoon!
What’s wrong, big girls? Can’t bite me? Ha! Ha! Here, let me mark your fence so you know who really owns this yard."
That, of course, drove us mad. But we—two mighty dogs—could only snap our teeth in frustration, trapped in our yard, unable to do anything.
This went on until Cricket arrived.
The Arrival of Cricket
Cricket appeared out of nowhere.
Thomas’s sister, Gerda, had come to visit for a few days. We had a great time with her—walking along the lake, sitting by the fire. Then she left.
The next morning, Alice ran outside and asked:
"Doggies, have you seen Cricket?"
We tilted our heads. There were plenty of crickets in the yard, so we weren’t sure what she meant.
Alice explained:
"I had a dream... Gerda left a special cricket for us. It’s from her father, and it must be here somewhere!"
We sniffed around, just to humor her. But honestly, we thought it was just one of Alice’s fairy tales.
Then, one night, I woke up to the sound of chirping.
But this chirping—I could understand it!
"Wake up, Bella! Want to get revenge on the raccoon?"
I almost barked in excitement! I nipped Lola’s ear.
"Wake up, lazybones! Something’s happening!"
We bolted out of our house. And there, on top of our roof, was Cricket—a tiny insect, barely noticeable. We hadn’t even realized he was there until he spoke again:
"The raccoon is coming. The same one. He’s going to laugh at you again, call you helpless dogs.
Do you want revenge?"
We wagged our tails furiously. We could already hear the raccoon’s annoying muttering approaching.
Cricket continued:
"Then listen carefully and do exactly as I say!"
We didn’t even ask who he was or how he could talk. He had struck right at our emotions, and we were ready to follow him.
The Plan
Cricket laid out the plan:
"See that table near the fence? You are big, strong dogs, and you can jump.
If you take a running start and jump onto the table, you can leap over the fence.
Once outside, split up and move quietly along the fence.
The raccoon is coming from the right. Find him—but stay silent!
No barking, no noise, or else you’ll get in trouble. Now go, teach that beast a lesson!"
It took only seconds. I whispered to Lola:
"Do as I do."
With a short run, I leaped onto the table and, without stopping, cleared the fence. Lola followed almost instantly.
In the moonlight, two giant dogs—two shadowy figures—moved soundlessly across the yard. We landed softly and stalked forward in silence, sniffing for our enemy.
I followed his trail, trembling with excitement. Every part of me burned with anticipation.
And then—there he was.
The raccoon, casually strutting along the fence, muttering insults, completely oblivious to what was coming.
I savored the moment, then pounced.
In three quick leaps, I tackled him to the ground. My teeth clamped around his neck. One move, and I could finish him.
I growled:
"Say it again. Who’s the useless dog now?"
The raccoon froze in shock.
Then Lola arrived, lowering her massive head toward his terrified face.
Oh, the sweet moment of revenge! His eyes bulged in horror. He didn’t even try to fight back—he was paralyzed with fear.
I loosened my grip just a bit, and suddenly, the raccoon let out a horrifying shriek:
"HELP! HELP! THEY’RE KILLING ME! SOMEONE HELP!"
His screams were deafening. We hesitated, startled by his wailing.
I clamped my teeth again—this time, silencing him.
Then, we froze.
The door of the house creaked open. Thomas stepped onto the porch.
The raccoon had woken him up!
The moment was ruined! We had to let the raccoon go.
Lola and I darted into the shadows, pressing ourselves against the fence.
Thomas sighed:
"Probably just raccoons fighting over garbage bins again. Our dogs are fast asleep."
He went back inside.
The raccoon, now free, limped away, whimpering as he disappeared into the darkness.
We felt defeated.
But then, a soft chirping sounded above us. Cricket was sitting on a nearby branch.
"Doggies, do you want to go home?"
We nodded. Of course, we wanted to go home! But how? The fence was tall, and we had no way back in.
Cricket clicked his wings and said:
"Listen. There’s a weak board in the fence. If you press against it just right, it will move, and you can squeeze through. But be gentle—you must push it back in place after you get in. No evidence left behind. Understood?"
Lola and I exchanged glances—what a genius!
It took just a few moments. We found the board, nudged it aside, slipped through, and pressed it back into place. Silent as shadows. Not a single clue left behind.
We rushed into our house and fell asleep instantly.
The Morning After
The next morning, we woke up with big dog smiles. We replayed the night’s events over and over, relishing our victory.
Then, Alice came outside, looking suspicious.
"Doggies, I had a dream that you bit the raccoon a little.
Serves him right, the troublemaker! What good dogs you are!"
We danced around her in our victory dance, tails wagging furiously.
And from that night on, the raccoon never dared come near our yard again. He had learned his lesson.
And Cricket became our most trusted friend and advisor.