THE FANTASTIC ADVENTURES OF

The Fantastic Adventures of Mr. Wienie and a Brand-New Sidekick the Piss Whisperer

It was a dark and ominous night as a tiny sliver of the moon glimmered through the night clouds. The lady slipped on my superhero red vest and I dashed into my kennel. It was opening weekend; a bull elk was on the ground and it was my time to shine. As you know, I am Mr. Wienie, an unfortunate name for the heroic blood-tracking dog that I am. Nonetheless, I had spent the winter and summer lounging on the porch barking at everything and sometimes at nothing all while honing my sense of smell as I looked for any morsel left under the table. I was prepared for the blood tracking season or as you probably call it, Archery Season.

Now, it was show time. I arrived at the scene to find a multitude of people stumbling around in the pitch black with their packs, bows and random items scattered about the field and hillside. Frankly, it was a chaotic mess. People do some weird stuff when the stakes are high and a bull elk is at risk of being lost. It was about to get weirder.

This is when I met the “Piss Whisperer”. He was a stunning specimen of a man as the moon glistened on his muscles and he flipped his hat backward to tuck in his wayward locks of black curly hair. Now, I can’t actually read but I’m sure his shirt said PW.

So, my new sidekick, PW, and I were on the prowl. The studly hunter, Mr. G, was sure the bull had gone to the left and we scoured the ground. This is when I witnessed the true power of PW. I was attempting to pull my handler to the right when the night went silent. PW stood up, his body silhouetted on the horizon, his eyes keen, his mind clear and his olfactory sense sharp on the trail. He held a leaf high and pronounced “this is elk piss from the bull”. Now, I like the smell of pee as much as the next guy but PW took it to a whole new level. His work was truly awe-inspiring as he hunched over scanning the earth, smelling twigs and, I believe, even tasting a few wet leaves. The crowd followed behind, hanging on PW’s every move with bated breath. It was a sight to behold. PW questioned if the bull was shot in the bladder, it seemed a bit of a stretch to me but, hey, I’m just a dog. As the night drew darker and the cool air settled around our group, the people grew quieter and the mood shifted, hope was dwindling and eventually, they unceremoniously stuffed me back in the kennel to call it quits for the night.

At the dawn of the new day, the sun was shining and the mood was high as we headed out to continue our efforts. PW had not lost an ounce of awesomeness and was hard at work as the people wandered around occasionally yelling when they saw some blood or hair or even a whiff of urine. Eventually, I pulled hard enough and the lady followed me...to the right. The dead bull lay in a heap slightly hidden behind a downed tree. PW whooped and hollered with excitement as he sprang into action. I saw the flash of a knife blade and the elk hair was flying. As the pile of meat grew, PW swung quarters over each shoulder and busted up the hill without breaking a sweat. Indeed, a site to behold. I only hope to see it again next season!