This week I met Lola – yep, just Lola, the cutest little Pomeranian I’ve ever laid eyes on (she may have been the first too, actually, now that I think about it). We met at my office cuz her Mom works nearby. She trotted right up for the wag-and-sniff.
“Hi, Mr. Bonzo. I’m Princess Lola, but you can call me just Lola, and this is my Mommy, Sharon. It’s just us two girls. We told all our friends and we’re just so-o excited for my interview. Mommy got me all fluffed up special, see?”
And she did this little prancy thing at the end of her pink leash. She looked like she was wearing fluffy, white bloomers. Her eyes were big and dark greenish-brown, and her white, feathery tail curved over onto her back. Her fur reminded me of cotton candy, or maybe a dandelion puff right before it blows away.
“You look lovely,” I managed. “And your coat colors are really pretty, too.”
“Oh, thank you. It’s called Party Colors, orange and white,” she said, flashing a smile.
Her face and ears were orange, and she was so fluffed up that her ears just vanished into the orange fluffiness on her head, ‘cept when she spotted something interesting. Then they just popped right up, all pointy.
Since we were in the downstairs open area, there were lots of things to explore, and she checked ‘em all out. “Oooo, look at those big green leaves.” She gave ‘em a sniff. Then, “Oooo, look at all those cars!” Then, “Oooo, look at that nice man with a TREAT for me. (Our building is very dog-friendly.)”
“So tell me about yourself, Lola,” I encouraged. She trotted over.
“Sure, Mr. Bonzo. Well, did you know my ancestors way, way back came from the Arctic? It’s up at the top where it’s real snowy. They were sled dogs and much bigger than us now. I mean, can you even imagine ME pulling a sled? Our name comes from a part of Germany that isn’t even there anymore. Anyway, somewhere along the line, my breed got way smaller, like me. We did herd sheep for a while back then. I’m glad we don’t haf to now. It’d mess up my fur. Plus, I only weigh 10 pounds. The sheep couldn’t even see me, right?”
“Right,” I agreed. “So tell me how you and your Mom met.”
“My Mommy had a Pomeranian named Daisy who went to Dog Heaven. When she got done feeling sad, she looked for a Nice Breeder, and found ME – on Palm Sunday. I was just a teeny puppy, only 3 pounds. Now I’m 4, I’m a big girl. Me and Mommy got along right away. I get to sleep with her, of course. And I give her, like, zillions of kisses. Mommy says I’m very Fast-iddy-us. See, I’m paper trained and I always need my privacy. I mean, after ALL, a girl’s gotta have her privacy, doncha think?”
“Er, yes, sure, absolutely,” I mumbled.
“Me and Mommy have a Special Routine every morning. I wake up and give Mommy little slurps to wake her up. Then she puts me down on the floor. I DON’T jump up OR down myself. I probly could, but I’d just rather not. So then I Do My Duty and then I get breakfast. Which I don’t eat until Mommy puts some lovely Parmesan cheese on it. I LOVE Parmesan cheese, don’t you?”
“ I … er …”
“I also love company cuz they always love me and give me tons of pats. Specially Mommy’s besties called The Shadies. I dunno why, but they’re super fun. I also like walking on the beach. I investigate all the stuff that washes up. My best pooch pal is Gidget, she’s even smaller than me – she’s a sorta Maltese.
“And my totally favorite human, ‘cept for Mommy, of course, is my Grampa Jim. I have Doggie Day Care with him when Mommy goes to work. She’s a sorta groomer for human ladies, she makes their hair all pretty. She does mine, too! But I’m not allowed to go to work with her, so me and Grampa have fun all day. He has lotsa treats. Sometimes he takes me for a ride in his golf cart. Later, Grampa sits in his big chair and I sit on the couch and we just hang out. Then I sit by the door and wait for Mommy to come pick me up.”
“It must be fun having a people groomer for a Mom,” I observed.
“Ackshully, I don’t care much for being groomed. I make Mommy sit on the floor with me to do it. But I really like how I feel later – all spiffy and fluffy.”
Just then, two humans on bikes rode through and we all jumped, ‘specially Lola.
When they’d gone though, she said, “Humpf, I wasn’t really scared, just sorta surprised. But what REALLY scares me is the dog gate Mommy puts up so I don’t go upstairs. Sometimes I knock it over and it makes a loud, scary noise. The other thing that scares me is the big, loud, slurpy machine Mommy uses to clear the rugs and stuff. I’m pretty sure it’d GRAB me if I didn’t pay attention. I’ve seen Dust Bunnies bigger than me.”
I couldn’t believe the time had gone by so fast. “It’s been a real pleasure,” I told her.
“Same here, Mr. Bonzo. Maybe we’ll meet again sometime.” And she gave that happy little smile.
“Oh for Lassie’s sake,” I thought, “think of something clever to say.”
“Well, don’t take any wooden dog biscuits,” I blurted out.
Till next time,
The Bonz
