By Arlan Gerig
I may look like the average Weimaraner, but I play a mean violin. I pick the strings, Scratch strums her zither, and Blizzard keeps time with his hooves. The sun sets on the horizon. Our animal band wraps up another day of jamming together in our overgrown, dilapidated cottage.
I sniff and raise a paw. The music crashes to a halt. “Humans,” I whisper. We tense. Scratch’s fur stiffens.
I don’t trust humans. Especially Goan. It’s hard to respect your wizard owner when he puts a spell on you and the cat and donkey you’ve befriended, then forces you into his talking, musical zoo. So we escaped. We fled by night, racing across Germany until we found this abandoned house bordering the seaside town of Bremen. Best part: residents keep their distance and don’t ask questions.
Voices drift through the closed door. I drag Scratch into the adjacent bedroom. A pair of mice in the corner, preoccupied with breadcrumbs, catch her eye.
I sneak a look at Blizzard. He sidles up to the wall––three feet from the door––and sticks his head behind a curtain. His idea of hiding. I sigh.
“Thought I heared music,” a deep voice announces.
“Out here? Ain’t nobody gonna be in this falling-down hideout,” a squeaky voice responds. “Let’s bunk here tonight, check that hidden stash, and rob the magistrate tomorrow.”
I snarl. Thieving humans are no better than wizards.
“The neighbors say witches is living here,” the first voice says. “They hear weird things like music and strange voices but don’t see no people. Karl, go inside and see if there’s any witches.”
“That’s ridiculous,” a third voice, apparently Karl, protests. “I ain’t looking for witches nowhere.”
I look around the corner again. There’s a scuffle, some grunts, and a man stumbles through the doorway.
He covers his face with his hands, peeking between his fingers. “Hey, all you witches gotta leave now!”
Blizzard kicks him square in the ribs. Karl screams, catapults into the back wall, and collapses in a heap. I don’t blame Blizzard. No donkey likes being yelled at.
There’s a muffled yelp from outside. “You witches can have him!” one calls through the broken window. Snapping branches and clomping feet get fainter as the cowards scurry away.
“Oh dear.” Blizzard moans. “I hate hurting people, but he scared me. Is he injured?”
The thief’s arm twitches. Karl groans.
I nose his hand. “He looks fine.”
Scratch and I wrap him securely with ropes from the closet.
“If rumors and unexplained music didn’t keep those thieves away, neither will witches in their hideout,” I warn. “They’ll be back for their loot.”
Abruptly, Karl opens his eyes and tries to sit. “Can’t believe those guys tied me up,” he whines.
“It wasn’t your fellow thieves.” My tail thumps the floor.
His eyes grow wide as tambourines. “That kick must’ve addled my brain. I could’ve swore the dog talked.”
I bark a laugh. “Yes, we can talk, and Blizzard will kick you straight through that wall if you don’t tell me when your friends are returning.”
I shake my tail at Blizzard, a silent warning not to speak. He droops his head. I know he’d apologize, and we need to appear tough. It’s why I wouldn’t let him use the name Snowflake.
Karl struggles against the ropes. “They ain’t my friends. Please don’t kick me.”
“Blizzard, kick Karl again. Show him we’re serious.”
“But he asked nicely.” Blizzard shakes his mane. “Do I have to?”
I nod and Karl thrashes, trying to escape. “Okay, I’ll talk! I just hates this pounding headache.”
I bare my teeth, stepping closer. Sweat drips from his forehead.
Karl gulps. “The magistrate gots gold, diamonds, and famous paintings! We was gonna rob him, hide some here, then make off for Hamburg. Then––”
“Okay,” I interrupt. “Got it. We need a plan.”
Karl yanks on the ropes again, no closer to getting loose. “What about me? You gonna let me go?”
Scratch meows. “Maybe after I claw your eyes out.”
Karl turns to me. “What if I help you get rid of them?”
I growl. “That’s not likely. You’re nothing but a thief.”
“I’m not like them! I only wanna make music.”
Blizzard snorts excitedly. “What do you play?”
“Not the point,” I snap. Although I am curious if he’s actually a musician.
“I give smashing melodies on the flute. Would play for the magistrate, too, if those bullies wasn’t pushing me to rob him.” Karl scans the cabin, smiles and points his toes. “Look in that bedroom. I got ideas!”
Is this human different? I wait for his plan.
The sun peeks over the horizon when the thieves sneak into the cottage. They grip large sticks with both hands. I sit in the middle of the room and look up pitifully, wagging my tail.
“Run!” I shout. “There be a witch here that’ll turn you into a dog like me.”
“Karl?” The first thief frowns and peers closer. “That you? I don’t see no witches.”
Scratch jumps from the table into the morning rays. “I live down the road, and she turned me into a cat. Save yourselves while you can!”
Black sheet fluttering, a cloaked witch prances into the room, her hooves clomping across the floor. A hand emerges and points.
Karl trills in a high-pitched voice. “I’ll count to three before I turns you into mice. One.”
The thieves tremble, dropping their sticks.
“Hurry,” I urge. “You wanna be like me?”
“Two.”
“I can’t watch.” Scratch mews and turns away.
“Last chance. Three.”
Blizzard’s hooves clomp forward. The pair of mice Scratch captured race across the floor. The two thieves mash each other as they hurtle through the doorway.
“We don’t wanna be mice,” one shouts from down the road.
Karl throws the sheet aside and heaves himself off Blizzard.
I grin, tongue lolling. “You proved yourself, Karl. Get your flute. Today, we celebrate.”
And we’ve found the perfect complement for our band.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A fun, enchanting story that takes us away from reality to a place of magical music. Helping us to remember how we as humans with animals make our way together in Life and give each other what we need and instinctively know what animals and humans can be trusted. Thank you for helping us through “Hump Day” with imagination and insight.
Thank you for your comments, Kim! I’m glad you enjoyed it! I wanted to show the way our rotten behaviors affect animals but how respect and kindness can turn it around (hopefully).
Your story recognizes the inherent goodness and smarts of animals Love the description of musical critters Wonder if we should buy our animals musical instruments
😆I’d love to see my dog Lola try to play the violin. She’d end up chewing it to pieces.
Musicians of Bremen is one of my favourite tales. You did a great job with the dog’s POV telling the story.
Than you! I’ve always loved this story, too, and held on to it until this theme fit it perfectly.
That was really cute haha! I literally just learned about this tale a week or so ago, so it was fun to see a new twist on it! 😁
Thank you! When I started, it was animals against thieves. When Karl git thrown against the wall, I realized I could incorporate him and change the tone of the story. I’m glad you liked it!
Lol fun story!
Thank you Rachel! Glad you enjoyed it!
This was a fun read. But I admit I am biased as I like all good stories that have dogs in it. And this was a great story.
I have always said that I am leary of anyone who doesn’t like dogs. They cannot be trusted.😂
Just like the movie title starring Diane Lane and John Cusack “Must Love Dogs.”
Thank you, Mike! I’m glad you liked it! Of course, making the dog the narrator shows no bias of my own.😏
Enjoyable version of one of my favorite stories from Grimm.
Thank you! I’m glad you liked it. I wasn’t sure how many people even knew about this story. Most people I talked to had never heard of it.
Fun retelling of the great Bremen Musicians tale.
Thank you, Jim! I enjoyed writing this one.
I loved this story!!
The Bremen Musicians never get as much credit as they deserve…
I agree, Rose! It’s an awesome fairy tale, and thanks for reading. I’m glad you liked it!