This uber tale is intended to be humorous, and light hearted. I hope it brings a warm smile to your rainy day.

This story revolves around a loving relationship between two women, what that relationship is will be up to the reader to decide.

I would love to hear any and all feedback.

I would like to dedicate this story to the newest member of my family, our Chihuahua puppy. <G>



A Tale Of Two Tails

By Raine


“Hi, my name is Brooke Donivan,” a slight, blonde haired woman stated.

“Hello, my name is Alison Hayes,” another woman announced with a nod. This woman was taller,
with dark flowing hair pouring down her back.

“Shall I tell the story, Allie, or will you?” Brooke asked.

“You always tell it better. Why don’t you go ahead,” Alison answered.

“Well,” the young woman began, “I guess I should start at the beginning. Hey, Allie, do you think
I should throw in one of those ‘Once upon a time’ beginnings?”

Alison rolled her eyes. “No, Brooke. They’re laughing at us already. Just tell the story.”

“All right, all right.” The young woman took just a moment to find her focus, then fell into her
story telling mode. “I am in the business of breeding fine pedigreed show dogs, Pomeranians, to
be exact. Why Pomeranians, you might ask? Well first off they’re the most beautiful dog ever
created. Secondly, they are so friggin smart, you wouldn’t believe the intelligence of these little
dogs. But more than any of that they have this amazing charismatic personality that is so
contagious. They’re bold and energetic, sweet and kind...”

A laugh cut her off midsentence and she gave a sideways look at the source of the chuckle. “I
thought you wanted me to tell this story?” Brooke asked Alison indignantly.

“Well, I do unless you’re going to go on and on praising the glory of the Pomeranian.” Allie
turned from Brooke, and spoke in a slight whisper, “If you ask me, she loves those hairballs so
much because they are just like her.”

“That’s not true!” Brooke shouted in amusement!

Alison continued, ignoring the interruption. “They are these demanding little monsters with this
hair that sheds if you so much as breath near them. They are violently protective, overly
possessive, and they chat incessantly.” Allie turned back to Brooke with a satisfied look. “There. I
only think it’s fair that they have the truth.”

They stared intensely at one another, seemingly forgetting the story still hanging in the air. They
broke into bubbling laughter, falling over each other in giggles. “Anyways,” Brooke began again,
shaking her head to regather her concentration. “I breed Pomeranians. I’ve been doing it for the
last seven years. It all started because I saved this little black and tan hairy dog from the pound
when I was still in my second year of college. I brought her home, named her Gabby, and from
that day on that dog and I were inseparable. Gabby would sleep in my bed, ride with me on
errands in the car, she chased away many a rejected dating prospect.

One day as I sat in Wilson’s Park studying for the Chemistry final, this woman marches up to me,
drops to her knees before my dog, and starts speaking in some foreign baby language. You know
the talk, ‘Oh, aren’t you the sweetest little puppy in the whole wide world, yes you are, yes you


Well, after a few minutes of that I asked this woman, “Who are you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. My name is Loraine Richards. I am a connoisseur of Poms. Where did you get
such a rare one?”

Baffled, I looked to Gabby. Well she did sort of look like one of those pompoms that cheerleaders
use, but I did think it was just a little rude of this woman to call her that right to her face. “I
rescued Gabby from the pound,” I answered expecting that to be that.

“Oh wow!” she beamed. “What a find for you. How old was she when you got her?”

“She was just a puppy. She’s only two now.”

“Have you ever bred her?”

“I didn’t know it was very economically wise to breed mutts,” I answered. Ok, I said it in sort of
a belligerent tone, which I fully regret now.

“Mutts?!” she exclaimed. I thought she would have a heart attack right then and there. “That
DOG is a rare black and tan Pomeranian!”

So my Gabby wasn’t a mutt after all. This pleased me very much, but not near as much as it
pleased Mrs. Richards. “Does she have her papers?” she asked me.

Papers? I thought to myself. “Oh yeah! They did give me some papers when I adopted her. Is that
what you mean?”

“AKC Pedigree papers?”

“Yeah, I think so. Why?” This was becoming more and more weird. Better to just send the
woman on her way.

“I know a breeder who would love to get her hands on your dog.”

“I would never ever sell this dog...!”

“No, of course not, dear. Mr. Tellero would provide the Sire, and you would provide the Bitch.”

My eyebrows shot up. I’m not overly sensitive, but to hear this woman call my dog a bitch, like it
was her name just infuriated me. I jumped to my feet, grabbed my Chemistry book, and took
Gabby by the leash. Pushing past Mrs. Richards, I stormed off across the park. When I looked
back only a moment later, there was that woman in her forties running after me like she was ten.
“What is wrong with this lady?” I asked Gabby.

“Ma’am! Ma’am please. Just hear me out,” Mrs. Richards gasped between breaths. She bent over,
leaning her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. You would of course be getting the
regular fifty percent, plus first pick of the litter.”

That sparked my interest. “Fifty percent? And how much money are we talking about?”

“Depending on the litter of course, it could be as little as $500 or as much as $5000.”

My jaw dropped, my neck hair stood on end. I could earn as much as $5000 and all I had to do
was let my Gabby have sex? “How do we begin?”

Since then, Mrs. Richards, and Mr. Tellero have become invaluable sources of information for me.
After Gabby’s first litter had been delivered, the full realization hit me of the tremendous work
involved in breeding dogs. Ok, I admit it. I was a naive college kid when I met Mrs. Richards at
Wilson’s Park, but I can also assure you that I am a complete professional at this stage in my

* * *

Again another giggling smirk interrupted Brooke’s story. “What?” she demanded of Allie.

“If you were the professional you claim to be, these poor people wouldn’t have to endure this
lovely story, now would they, because there wouldn’t be a story to tell.”

“Well if there wasn’t a story to tell, then I would never have met you, right?”

Allie gazed at Brooke fondly, knowing that everything they had gone through was worth it in the
end just to have met each other. “I would never take any of it back, would you?” she asked

Brooke smiled affectionately. “Never,” she answered. Brooke leaned over to Allie in a secretive
whisper, “Besides, I thought we had talked about this, and we agreed that we each shared a little
of the blame here.”

Allie smiled, turning from Brooke. “We’ll let those who are listening to your story decide who
exactly is to blame.”


Anyways, as I was saying before I was interrupted, I am a professional Pomeranian breeder. I
have since obtained five females (referred to as bitches in the breeding world...I don’t mean to
offend), and three males, resulting in over thirty litters under my care, and another seven that my
male, Reeve, sired. Quite the proud mamma, I am. Not to mention the fact that I’m quite
financially happy.

I moved to Norfolk Virginia when I was twenty five, and of course my eight Poms came with me.
I found a beautiful house in a quiet community right outside the Norfolk city limits where I could
raise my litters. It was a Victorian two story home with three bedrooms, two living areas, an
ample kitchen, and a spacious back yard. I fell in love with that house the minute I first saw it.

I met most of the neighbors within my first week there, including a beautiful, dark haired stranger.
She came to my front yard that first week in April. I love April, the time of year when the grass
first begins to turn green, the cold bitter weather warms to a comfortable seventy degrees. I had
decided to plant an assortment of colorful posies in my front flower bed. I was on all fours, with
my hands elbow deep in soil, Gabby running in and out of the maze of my arms and legs, when
this long immense shadow enveloped me. I turned, and I saw this great intimidating silhouette
hovering over me with a brilliant halo from the bright sun.

I tried to shade my eyes from the sunlight, but the person moved, and the sun’s blinding rays
blurred my vision momentarily. A strong hand reached down to gently grab my upper arm, pulling
me gently to a standing position. It was then that I saw her, Alison Hayes. She reached out to
shake my hand, and I waved my arm showing her the layer of dirt covering my hand. She smiled
in that Allie way, and she took my hand, dirt and all, and she shook it.

“Hello, my name is Alison Hayes,” she said.

“And I’m Brooke Donivan.”

I knew right then and there that I was going to like this woman. Well, that was until this little rat
came chasing across the street from her house, barking and yelping like it was in mortal danger. It
ran straight for me until it stood at my feet. It proceeded to gnaw viciously on my tennis shoe
laces, in between barks, growls, and yelps.

Alison reached down and picked up the mouse of a dog, laughing at it’s antics. “I’m sorry.
Goliath gets a little excited around strangers.”

‘A little?’ I wanted to ask, but refrained in the spirit of friendship.

“Goliath?” I asked.

“He thinks he’s nine feet tall, so I just play along.”

“Cute dog,” I managed to say. My mom always said if you can’t say anything nice, then don’t say
anything at all. I walked over to the porch and poured myself a tall glass of iced tea. I offered a
glass to Alison, but she declined.

“Thanks. Actually I breed them, Chihuahuas that is,” Alison said proudly.

My mouthful of tea suddenly sprayed out of my mouth, unintended, like a watering fountain on
the small dog in Alison’s arms. It wasn’t sweet tea, thank goodness.

“Oh, Alison! I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.”

Alison laughed hysterically, and I must admit that I felt a little embarrassed after hearing this
beautiful woman laugh at me. It was quite uncomfortable actually.

“That’s ok. I can’t speak for Goliath though. He may never warm up to you now,” she said still
shaking with laughter.

The Chihuahua looked at me with cold menacing black eyes. His teeny tiny black whiskers
dripped tea, and instead of looking like a rat, he now looked like a drowned mouse. I would have
felt sorry for him if he hadn’t reached out to bite me.

Thank goodness Alison has a lightening flash reaction time, because if she hadn’t pulled that dog
away in time, my hand would be two fingers short of a fist.

Alison apologized repeatedly, and made a graceful, if not timely exit.

I never even had a chance to comment on the startling piece of information, that she bred
Chihuahuas. Interesting indeed.

My youngest Pom, Jezebel, was, by my schedule, coming into heat that Spring. Mr. Tellero and I
had planned to breed Jez for the first time with a beautiful red Pom named Dusty. Mr. Tellero was
bringing the Sire all the way from Texas to Norfolk himself. He was scheduled to arrive in early
June if all went according to plan. But of course things never go according to a set plan, do they?

Despite our haphazard introduction, Alison Hayes and I began a timid friendship. She owned
three Chihuahua males, one black, one sable, and one a rare blue fawn. She spent her time
breeding them out, when she wasn’t teaching obedience training for dogs, which made me greatly
admire her. Trust me, it can be difficult enough to try to teach your own dog, but to teach a class
of twenty dogs and owners ranging from Great Danes to York Terriers. Well, let’s just say that
it’s very admirable of her to embark upon this mission. The owners themselves can be bigger
dunces than the dogs they wish to teach. That’s another soap box for another time though. Back
to the story.

I invited Allie over one Saturday morning in late May for breakfast, southern style. Big juicy
sirloin steak, with scrambled eggs mixed with cheese, and homemade buttery biscuits. I don’t
mean to talk up my own cooking, but, well the truth is that I’m a very good cook. So I was quite
proud to be serving breakfast that morning.

Usually I keep my Poms in the back room, from there they’re just a door away from the backyard.
For the last week though I kept Jezebel near me at all times, to look for signs of readiness to
mate. I was overly anxious, seeing that Mr. Tollero was scheduled to arrive in only a matter of
two weeks, and still Jez wasn’t ready.

Allie arrived at the door thirty minutes late, which, when you remember that she lives across the
street does raise some questions.

“Oh, Brooke, I’m sorry I’m late. Jamie, the woman who’s providing the bitch, just called. She’s
frantic because the female hasn’t gone into heat yet. She’s an amateur, and frankly she’s driving
me mad.”

I didn’t really feel like talking business, so I changed the subject. We had a nice leisurely
breakfast, until Allie invited me over to see her collection of Chihuahuas. I hesitantly agreed,
bringing Jez along with me.

Believe it nor not, in my two months living across from Allie, this was my first time to actually
enter her house. The first thought that struck me as I entered the hallway was ‘Allie is living in
someone else’s house’. What, on the outside, looked to be a very traditional aging house, had on
the inside been transformed into a house from the twenty first century, which it is the twenty first
century, but still it was quite the paradox. Computers, printers, scanners, dual towers, not to
mention the HDTV with satellite. I must say, I was quite the jealous neighbor.

Allie walked me through the house to the backyard, where tiny dog houses were located with
entrance holes no higher than my ankle. As soon as the back door slammed shut, three
Chihuahuas came dashing out of their dog houses, barking.

“Hush!” Helen demanded sternly. With one word, they were silenced. Only their whispered
whimpering broke the quiet. “Hold on to your Pomeranian there. I’m going to let Titan out.”

‘Titan?’ I thought to myself. I certainly wasn’t going to let my Jez down any where in the vicinity
of these monsters.

Allie opened the latch on the tiny cage, and Titan came flying out in a blurring flash of black. It
aimed straight for my legs, I stood there waiting for the unavoidable impact. I braced myself, and
then...nothing. I looked down to see the dog tearing at the bottom hem of my jeans. Yep, cute
dogs if you can afford new shoes and jeans every week.

Allie picked him up protectively and walked us back into her living room. “I’m just going to let
him run around for a few minutes. Is that ok?”

“That’s fine.”

“If you want to pet Titan, you can,” Allie announced as she turned to go into the kitchen. “He
won’t bite, ”she called.

I let out a soundless laugh. I wrapped my right arm completely around Jez and bent over
whistling. Titan came barreling around the corner, and came to a screeching halt at my feet. He
looked up innocently, and I reached out to allow him to smell me. He sniffed cautiously, and
began tentatively licking my fingers, one by one. He was working on my thumb by the time Allie
came back into the living room. She was carrying two cups of steaming black coffee, and I loved
her for knowing what the important things in life are, dogs and coffee.

I loosened my grip on Jez by my second cup, and I found that conversation came really easy for
Allie and me. In fact an hour had passed and I barely noticed. Allie came to collect my cup and
she took them to the kitchen. I heard the back door open and close, then water was running. Oh
good, I thought to myself, she must have put the dog outside. My arm had become numb from
holding Jez so long.

“So,” I heard her yell from the other room, “what did you think of Titan?”

“Did you put your doggy up?” I asked.

“Yes, I did,” she answered.

I released Jez, who began sniffing around the room, and made my way to the kitchen. It was quite
impressive with black appliances and a gorgeous glass dining room table. “How long have you
lived in this house?”

“As long as I can remember. My parents raised me here, and being the only child, they left it to
me in their will,” she answered politely.

“That must be strange to live in the same house your whole life.”

“Actually I think it’s really grounded me. I’ve always known where home was. It can be a
comforting thought when you get especially lonely,” she said as she pulled the can of coffee back
down from the shelf. She poured two heaping spoonfuls of the crystal grounds into the automatic
coffee maker. A second pot of coffee? I was never one to question coffee, so I didn’t say a word.

We talked about our respective entrances into the world of dog breeding while the aroma of the
coffee drifted around us. As soon as the coffee had finished percolating, she pulled down a fresh
mug, and filled it with the dark steaming liquid.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she handed the mug to me. “If I had known you wanted more coffee, I
wouldn’t have put it up.”

“Wanted more? No, but I can always drink another cup.”

Allie looked at me in confusion, but she shrugged anyway. “I thought when you asked me about
the coffee, that you were hinting for more.”

“Asked about the coffee?” Now I was the one looking confused.

“Yeah, when you asked me if I had put the coffee up.”

All breath left my body, as I raced into the living room. There, in full X-rated mode was my
Jez...and...Titan. I screamed in a panic, and raced over to pull them apart. “Fudge!” I cursed.

“What?! ”Allie exclaimed from the living room doorway.

“Not coffee!” I yelled. “Doggy! I asked you if you put your doggy up.”

Her face went pale as she looked at the scene played out in front of her. We each picked up our
respective dogs, and backed into opposite corners.

“You said coffee!” Allie swore.

“Doggy!” I persisted.

“Who says doggy? A three year old?”

That was the last straw. I stormed out the front door of her house, carrying Jez, and I didn’t stop
to look back until I had gotten behind my own door. I was stunned with outrage.


“You make it sound so horrible,” Allie commented.

“It certainly felt horrible at the time. I still can’t believe that you won’t accept a little bit of the

“Would that make you feel better, if I did?” Allie asked.

Brooke thought about it, and came to the conclusion that, “Yes, it would.”

“Fine, I misunderstood the word doggy for coffee, from the other room, with the water running.”

“You call that sincere?”

“No, actually because I don’t feel all that sincere when I say it.”

“It’s a good thing I care about you so much, other wise this could have become a serious issue.”

Allie laughed at the thought, knowing full well the rest of the story.


Well from there, it was a matter of let’s wait and see. I refused to tell Mr. Tollero about the little
incident unless I had a proof positive sign that she was pregnant. There were plenty of maybe
signs, like Jez never did go into heat, or the fact that Jez started eating like a fifty pound German

Allie felt bad, I know that now, but at the time I blamed everything on her. She came over often,
asking about Jez. She would examine her, and move her fingers around Jez’s stomach, and one
day she said, “Yep Brooke. She’s pregnant.”

I’m sure my face fell. I mean even though I saw it coming, I had convinced myself that this would
all just blow over. “Jez’s next litter was going to cover me for the next six to eight weeks. What
kind of money do you think I can get for Pomeranian Chihuahuas?”

“Listen, I’ll help you find homes for them. I’m sure you’ve got others that are ready to be bred.”

“This is the daughter of Gabby. Gabby and Jez are rare black and tan Pomeranians. Their litters
are worth thousands to me. People are going to hear about this, and they’ll never want to buy her
pups again.”

“True dog people know that having a mixed litter doesn’t effect the next litter. We’ll get through
this,” she promised.

It was those words that pulled me back together. Allie and I planned to keep this as quiet as
possible, while adopting the new pups out as soon as Jez delivered. In Jez’s second month, she
began having some mild problems, like slight bleeding, and lethargy. All my anger at the situation
melted away, and the only thing I feared was losing Jez.

The veterinarian checked her out every week, and he continued to sound positive. Jez had been
pregnant for forty five days when she began moaning in pain. I ran to Allie, and begged her to
come check.

“Is she going to have the puppies early?”

“I can’t tell. Nothing seems wrong. I can still feel them moving.”

Then the strangest thing happened. Allie offered to move in with me until the pups were born.
Allie and I had our problems as it was, much less having us both under the same roof for what
could turn out to be over two weeks. In the end it was Allie’s company that I craved the most, so
the next day she came over carrying a backpack with her overnight stuff, and I gave her the
upstairs bedroom.

To my surprise we got along great, except for moments here and there.

“You would choose a Collie over a Golden Retriever?” Allie asked doubtfully.

“Any day. Collies are not only beautiful, but they’re loyal, and protective.”

“Golden Retrievers actually have a function besides rounding up lost sheep.”

“So hunting would be more important than farming?” I asked incredulously. I mean the truth is
that we didn’t always have a lot in common.

“No, what I’m saying is that the average person doesn’t farm, while some do hunt.”

“What about getting a certain breed just to be a pet?”

“I’d still vote for the Golden.”

“You’re so stubborn!” I told her.

“Stubborn? This coming from a person who refuses to acknowledge that this whole thing was
your fault!”

This was war! It was a good thing for us, though, that our little disagreements never lasted long.
We were actually pretty good at making up.

“The Golden Retriever is devoted,” I conceded.

“Yeah, well the Collie does have a beautiful coat,” Allie admitted.

While bickering between us may have been common, laughing was too. No one can make me
laugh like Allie. We’d break out the containers of Ben & Jerry’s double chocolate ice cream, and
Allie would recount her younger days raising, get this, Irish Setters. How did she go from a
seventy pound Irish Setter to a four pound Chihuahua?


“I’d still pick the Golden,” Allie interrupted.

“You’re such a trouble maker!”

Allie only smiled, and beckoned for Brooke to finish the story.


The day finally came when it was time for Jez to deliver. Eight puppies arrived, all in good health,
then the last one came. It was a little girl, and she wasn’t breathing. Allie picked her up, and
began gently pushing on it’s chest. Then, she did the most amazing thing, something I will never
forget. Something I’ve always loved her for. She bent over that puppy, and she began to blow
into it’s mouth. Allie was giving this puppy CPR! After she had done it several times, I started to
see desperation in her face. I reached over to touch her shoulder, and I told her it was ok. She
looked at me with this sad face that just broke my heart. But if I had known Allie then the way
that I do now, I wouldn’t have been at all surprised to see her not give up. After several more
tries, that puppy took it’s first breath of air, and it’s chest rose with life.

Allie and I started crying right then, warm tears flowing down our cheeks. We wiped each others
tears away, and I looked down at this strange litter of puppies. Nine healthy puppies in all. I’ve
never seen a Pomeranian with such big ears, or a Chihuahua with that much hair. They were ugly
little things, but oh, how we loved them.


“Yes, we loved them so much that we kept two of them for ourselves. It wasn’t hard to find
homes for the other seven,” Allie concluded.

“This,” Brooke added, holding up a small, scrawny dog with shaggy brown fur, “is Faith. She’s
the little puppy Allie saved. We named her Faith, because it was Allies’ faith that saved her.”

“What did we decide to call them, Brooke? PomChis?”

“No, ChiPoms,” Brooke answered. “I learned something very valuable on that miraculous day,
that it is in the company of the ones you love that the heart finds home. You see, since this whole
incident happened Allie and I have become quite close. Who would have guessed that two such
different people could build such a beautiful bond together. We’ve also combined our breeding
services. We’re partners, if you can believe that. It works out really well, and we hope to expand
our offerings to include Corgis, which is our newest love.”

“But no more ChiPoms,” Allie added with a grin.

“Not if I can help it,” Brooke laughed. She reached over and took Allie’s hand giving it a quiet
squeeze. “Nope,” she said again. “I wouldn’t take any of it back for the world.”

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