Quigley Miller is one stylish poocheroo, ALWAYS ready for his close-up, far as I could tell. He’s a Red Australian Labradoodle with the Most Pawsome coat I EVER saw, masses of tight curls all over, an wavy, long red ears. When he prances, his caboose has a Cool Kibbles liddle do-wop to it.
We met outside of his condo, cuzza that scary bug that’s makin’ lotsa humans sick. It was real pretty back there, plenty of room an lotsa grass an handy bushes.
Quigley pranced right up for the Wag-an-Sniff. Even though he’s young – just turned 2 – he was very confident, puh-lite an frenly as he innerduced his Mom an Dad, Susan an Alan.
“I’m so interested in your backstory,” I told him. “Where you were born, how you got here, you know.”
“Well, I can’t wait to tell you! I love my story. Stop me if I go too fast.”
I got my notebook out. “I can’t wait to hear it, Quigley,” I replied.
“I was born in New HAM-sure on St. Patrick’s Day. My litter name was James, but my Mommy an Daddy named me Quigley, after a human onna TV show about Australia. PLUS, Quigley means ‘unruly hair’ in Irish.”
“Woof, Quig!” I exclaimed. “You’ve got the totally perfect name!”
“Yep, it’s TRUE! My pooch Mom, Peppermint, an my Dad, Findlay, were real fancy, from a place called Pine State Australian Labradoodles, in OR-uh-gone, which is way far away. Before my litter came along, they moved to new HAM-sure, which was much closer to my Forever Famly in Cuh-nedda-cut. (They were Florida Snowbirds).
“My Forever Mommy an Daddy had always had English Springer Spaniels …”
“Ah, yes, an excellent choice,” I commented. (OK, so, I happen to be an English Springer.)
“When their last pooch went to Dog Heaven, they didn’t want to be that sad EVER again. But they really missed havin’ a dog. So Mommy went On The Line an started doin’ pooch research. It took her 2 years to finally decide to look for an Australian Doodle, cuz we’re So Cute an Smart but also – mostly – cuz we don’t shed. So they put their name on The Waiting-for-a-puppy List.
“They wanted a black-an-white pooch but, by the time their name came up, the only pupper left in the new litter was not-black-an-white me. Even though I was extremely adorable, I had this one tiny flaw, so I couldn’t be a puppy daddy. My Mommy an Daddy didn’t want other puppies anyway, an, the minute Daddy saw my beautiful red coat, he said, ‘Oh, Wow!’ So they adopted me, Thank Lassie.
“Daddy drove Mommy an me an my basket of stuff to my Forever Home. I tucked my nose under Mommy’s arm: I was all comftubble an happy. It was Instant Love. Even though I was only 8 weeks old, an only 4 pounds, I was Very Good the whole way home. Mommy and Daddy’d stop about evry hour and put me on the ground. Mommy said, ‘Potty, Potty,’ an, I DID. They were SO proud me, an I was proud of me, too.”
“As you should be,” I acknowledged. “How did you like your new home?”
“It was Super Crispy Dog Biscuits, except I wasn’t thrilled about the crate I hadda stay in when Mommy an Daddy went out. But, after 6 months, I got the run of the house.
“I never really got into the usual Puppy Trouble. Like, I never chewed stuff. Except that one time. Mommy an Daddy had some frens over for snacks an stuff an I ate the cocktail napkins. They caught me doin’ it before I got to the ackshull food, which was kinda a bummer.
“Now I get Mommy’s an Daddy’s sox an slippers and bring ’em to the living room. But I don’t chew ’em up or anything so Mommy an Daddy don’t mind.”
“Do you have a lotta pooch pals?”
“Oh, woof, yes! Lemme see, there’s Shelby, she’s a Red Australian Labradoodle like me; so’s Phoebe, ’cept she’s an apricot mini version. Then there’s Lady, a Golden Retriever; an Rocket, a Westie; an Buddy an Oakley, they’re Cockapoos. When we go up to Cuh-nedda-cut to visit my human sisters Laura an Rachel, I get to hang out with Laura’s pooch, Lucy, she’s a Labradoodle like me; an Rachel’s pooches Chewy, a liddle mixture; an Julio, a Havanese.
“You shudda been here for my first birthday party last St. Patrick’s Day. It was Super Crunchy Dog Biscuits. The were 25 pooch frens, with their humans. Mommy made a special birthday cake outta vanilla frozen yo-gurt, decorated with liddle dog bone treats an a big candle.
“Whaddya like to eat, other than cocktail napkins?”
“My favrite treat, paws down, is my LickiMat!”
“What’s a LickiMat?” I asked.
“It’s this Cool Kibbles mat with a lotta liddle biddy bumps all over it. Mom smears kibbles on it OR my Favorite-Treat-in-the-Whole-World – PEANUT BUTTER! I could lick it for EVER. I get it when Mommy an Daddy go out, cuz I don’t like ’em to do that. But when I get my LickiMat with peanut butter, I’m like, ‘Bye-bye.’ I don’t even notice ’em leavin’.”
“With his hansome red coat and egg-cellent poss-chur,” I hadda ask, “have you ever thought about bein’ a show pooch? I mean, you got it goin’ ON!”
“I’d be fun, probly,” he said, “but apparently Australian Labradoodles aren’t Officially Recognized here. I don’t understand that, cuz Mommy an Daddy recognize me. My pooch pals recognize me. Our frens say I could knock evrybody’s sox off and win Best of Show at Westminster. But, you know what, Bonzo. I really like just hangin’ out with my pooch an human frens. I don’t wanna be a Snobnose. Anyway, Mommy an Daddy say I’m their Best of Show!”
Headin’ home, I was thinkin’ perhaps I should lay off the bread an practice my prance. An maybe see if Grandma or Grandpa could find me some vanilla yo-gurt.
Till next time,