Hi Dog Buddies! This week’s yap was with Gracie Giuffrida, a little gal pooch with a big voice. Gracie’s a Beagle and, even before her front door opened, I could hear her deep Bay. Her Mom and Dad, Lyn and Bruce, right away asked her to shush ‘cuz it was, well, LOUD. As a fellow dog, I dig a nice full BAY, and have even considered voice lessons. But, humans, I think, not so much.
Anyway, after a couple more, Gracie bounced over for a wag-and-sniff. “Mr. Bonzo, I got all spiffed up, I have my favorite red collar on. I’m awfully happy to actually meet you in the fur! C’mon in!”
She was so cute – and little. At first I thought she was a pupster, so I asked, “I don’t want to be impolite, but you’re really small. You can’t be more than 1 in Human years.”
She’d been sitting on her Dad’s lap and she jumped down and bounded over to her Mom, right next to me. “Oh, no, Silly. I’m full-grown. My second birthday was August 8th. See, us Beagles come in two sizes. I’m the Compact size – a 13. (That means 13 inches at the shoulder, Mom says.) The large sizes are the 15s.”
“Oh, thanks! I didn’t know that! By the way, I love your Bay! So, what’s your story?”
“Thank you, Mr. Bonzo. Well, Mom and Dad had a boy Beagle named Bailey who went to Dog Heaven two years ago. When they stopped being sad, they wanted another Beagle, and got me from the same breeder. What happened was, when they called, all the puppies were spoken for. I was the only pooch available but I was 14 months old. The breeder was planning to make me a Show Dog, but my tail was all wrong.”
“Huh?” I exclaimed cleverly.
“Yep. Show Beagles are ‘sposed to have straight tails but mine curls over, see, which I think is cool. But the Humans in charge of that stuff call it a Gay Tail (which means curly) and we can’t be Show Dogs.”
I just shook my head. Sometimes I just don’t understand Humans.
“But it worked out great,” she continued. “I didn’t wanna be a snooty old Show Dog anyway. I just wanted a Forever Family where I could play and chew stuff and get treats! Mom and Dad saw my video and fell in love with me. And here I am! Mom says I was a Wild Woman at first. She still calls me her Little Imp. See, I love to CHEW. I used to chew everything, but, when I chewed up Mom’s Kindle, they got serious. Now I just sometimes chew pencils, or I’ll get a screwdriver from Dad’s toolbox and take it someplace else, just to keep him on his toes.
“But the most fun’s when Dad rips up old sheets into rags. Then he knots them, and stuffs treats or squeakers inside the knots. Then he times how long it takes me to untie the knot. He buys bags of squeakers on line. I’m already on my third big bag.”
Her Dad tied a rag around a squeaker and tossed it into the kitchen. Gracie took off like a rocket. In about 20 seconds, she raced back.
“I bet that was a record!” she said, dropping the squeaker debris on the floor. She nosed a pink stuffed pig from under the table. Several thick black stitches held it together. “This is my favorite toy,” she explained. “Whenever my toys need repair, which happens a lot, they go to Dad’s Toy Hospital and he sews ‘em back up.” She paused suddenly. “Oh, where are my manners. Would you like a rag to chew? Dad’ll knot one for you.”
“Oh, no , I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” I make it a practice not to eat, drink or chew stuff up while I’m working.
“Dad and me take a walk every morning,” she continued. “Later, we walk over to the beach. I don’t go in the water; I just play in the sand. I had to learn to swim, in case I fall in the pool. In the afternoon, we take another walk, in time to greet Mom coming home from teaching bridge. That’s this Human game where they sit at tables and hold little pieces of paper and call each other Dummy, but nobody gets mad about it.
“Ooooh, and listen to THIS. I have my very own bell hanging over there by the patio door.”
She ran over and bumped it with her forehead. “I ring it when I have to Do My Duty. Or when it’s time for Dinner. Or when I want a Snack. Or Attention. Sometimes Dad’s so busy on his computer he forgets to pay attention to ME. Hard to believe, right?
“Mom says I’m a Chow Hound. She gives me snacks just because I’m irresistible. She lets me jump into her lap to give her smooches, and we play Tug-of-War. But Dad taught me that I have to wait ‘till he gives me The Signal. He puts a treat on his knee or sets my food dish down and I sit real still and stare at him ‘till he gives me The Signal. Man is that hard to do. But I do it ‘cuz Mom and Dad are the Best!”
Another interview was at an end. Heading home, I wondered what my Mom would think about me taking Baying lessons.
