This week I met a Puerto Rican pooch – a charming perra named Nola Kratz. She’s around 2, and lives on the island (this island, not that island) with her forever Mom and Dad, who are new to our town and really, really like how Dog Friendly it is. We knocked, the door opened, and out trotted Nola, on her leash, with her Dad on the other end.
“Ola, Senor Bonzo. Bienvenida! I’m Nola, this is my Dad, Russ. We’ll be right back. I gotta go for a little walk ‘cuz I get so-o excited when we have company. Hasta pronto!”
And off they went.
Nola’s Mom invited me and my assistant in and told us her name – Serena. We’d just got all settled in when Nola and her Dad got back. I jumped up for the Wag-and-Sniff, then got settled in again.
Nola is a Total Mix – looked to me kinda Beagle-y, and kinda hound-y, slim and trim, short hair, black eye liner – real pretty.
Coming from Puerto Rico, I figured she’d have an interesting story to tell, and boy, did she.
“I can speak Spanish and English, but I don’t always remember the English words . . . I hope you’ll pardon me,” she said.
“Of course,” I replied, pencil poised.
“As long as I can remember, I’ve been what we call in Puerto Rico a sata, slang for stray. And, believe me, Senor Bonzo, there are muchos perros callejeros (that means LOTS of stray dogs) on that island! I learned pretty quick to stay away from the packs. That can be muy peligrosa, er, very dangerous.
“Lucky for me I’m a pretty independent kinda girl. I lived in a town on the coast called Cabo Rojo. I’d sleep wherever I could and nice humans would give me food. My favorite thing was going to the beach. I’d go every day. I got to know lots of humans. My Mom and Dad moved to my town and saw me on the beach. My Mom wanted to adopt me but she thought I had a family ‘cuz of my flea collar. I didn’t, tho, and, oh Senor Bonzo, I wanted that, too, but I couldn’t figure out how to tell them. Then, on Jan. 15, 2015 ( I’ll never forget the date), one of their amigos, Joe Nolan, knocked on their door and said he’d brought a new amiga for them to meet. And it was ME.
“It was so maravilloso! I couldn’t believe it!
“My own family, and my own actual bed, which I share with Mom and Dad, and brand new food, just for me, not leftovers, and a real bowl to put it in, and one for agua, um, water, also. When we went for walks, the humans would call me Canela, which means cinnamon, ‘cuz of my color. But Mom and Dad named me Nola in honor of their amigo, Joe Nolan, who brought us together.”
“Aww, that is so cool!” I said. “So, how’d you get here?”
Well, my Mom and Dad have a casa up in Nueva York – you know that place?”
“Yes, I do,” I replied, wondering where Florida came in.
“They spend the summer there, in a place with mucho trees, called the Cat-skills, but I never saw any gatos. So that’s where we went from Puerto Rico. I got to ride in big plane. And I had 11 whole acres to play in. I’d chase deer. (I’m muy rapido, ya know. I love the thrill of the chase!) It was great. ‘Cept that time I had a run-in (Dad calls it) with this round, funny-looking animal with prickly things all over. (Dad told me the name but I forgot it.) I thought he might want to play with me but he didn’t. He was really rude and stuck a prickle right in me. I hadda go to the medico to get it out.“
“Definitely Soggy Dog Biscuits,” I sympathized.
“Anyway, we moved here last year, from my island to your island, and I love it. I have mucho dog friends now, all with Forever Families. There’s Bandit, Katie, Boston, Kiki, and lots more over at the Dog Park. Now I’m getting used to running around with other dogs. It’s not scary like before. And I still love the beach. I don’t go in the water but I do chase the little crabs, and those teeny little birds that run so fast the soap suds never catch ’em.”
“I know,” I said. “How do they do that?”
“I don’t chase balls like lots of you perros do,” Nola continued, “but I do enjoy a nice stuffed toy. What I do is, I nibble a pequeño hole in it, just big enough so I can pull the stuffing carefully out.”
“Sounds like you do a lot of traveling,” I observed.
“Oh, Si! I even get frequent flyer miles. Mom and Dad use theirs and mine, tambien. Don’t tell them I know, OK? They think its a secret.”
I coulda sat there all afternoon, listening to Nola’s stories, but I had a deadline to meet.
‘“I hope to see you again soon, Miss Nola,” I heard myself saying.
“Si! Si! Yo tambien! Adios, Senor Bonzo! Muchas gracias!”
Heading home, I was thinking it might be cool to learn a second language. I mean, you never know, right?
Till next time,
The Bonz
