This week I had a blast yapping with Abby and Bea Carman, who call themselves “The Pointer Sisters.” If I hadn’t already known different, I wudda thought they were still puppies, cuz they had that Puppy Bounciness when they greeted me and my assistant.
While they were still in Greet Mode, I observed that they looked identical, ’cept one had a red collar, and one had a blue collar. Abby and Bea are German Short-Haired Pointers, and actual sisters, with golden eyes and shiny coats, in that super pretty color that humans, for some reason, call Liver. I mean, Liver? I’m thinking, maybe, “Mocha.” With white sorta-snowflake sprinkles. And, woof, with those long legs and tails (I couldn’t help noticing) they coulda played Vegas.
They slowed down for the Wag-and-Sniff, then sat, side-by-side, very straight. The red-collar girl said, “We are SO-O excited to have The Bonz Visiting Our Very Own Home! I’m Abby, this is my sister Bea, this is our Mom, Leigh, and our Dad, Brian, who we call ‘Coach’ cuz he looks like Mike Ditka, who usta be an actual coach of one of those human games with a ball. We also have three grown-up human sisters, Natalie, Kimberly and Melissa.”
When my Assistant nudged me, I realized I had been staring at Abby and Bea, grinning like a Total Goofball. I switched to my Professional Journalist Face. “Delighted to meet you,” I gulped, reminding myself that, although I am a carefree bachelor, I was On the Job. “I know you have a great story.”
Abby began. “Up in Maryland, Mom and Coach had a Pointer, Samantha. After she went to Dog Heaven, they waited for years before they decided, in 2010, to get a new pupster. They went on line and found a kennel in Melbourne. If you’ve ever seen Pointer puppies, you know we’re Totally Irresistible! Barfingly Adorable! So Mom picked ME. Then they decided to adopt Bea, too, probly cuz she gave ‘em The Look! You know the one.”
I nodded. Every dog knows The Look, right?
Abby continued, “My kennel name was Mocha and Bea’s was Domino. And our papers names are Lady Abigail and Queen Beatrice. Thank Lassie, Mom and Coach call us plain ol’ Abby and Bea (so you don’t have to bow or anything). We named ourselves for the human Pointer Sisters cuz they did lotsa singing, Country and R&B and stuff. So we thought, ‘Well, WE’RE Pointers, AND sisters, plus we have good voices, and we do a lot of R&B, too.’”
“How so?” I inquired.
“Running and Barking, Silly!” Bea interjected. “We run and tumble, and bark Hello or when Something’s Amiss. Abby enjoys chewing the squeakies out of squeaky toys, but I’m not into toys. An, ’cept for one pair of Mom’s shoes Abby sorta chewed up when she was a puppy, we don’t chew stuff we’re not s’pose to. And we stay in our yard cuz there’s this magic fence you can’t see but if you go too far, it bites you. Now we know when it’s about to bite us and we outsmart it by not going there. Clever, right?”
I nodded.
“And we just go Bonkers over squirrels,” Abby continued. “They jump from a neighbor’s tree to our screen pool roof, zip across and leap into another tree. So we chase’m uppa tree and psych them out — Squirrel Mind Games, ya know. We sit for hours ’til the squirrel hasta go home for dinner. Little do they know how close they come to Disaster!”
“I notice there are lotsa ducks. Do you chase them, too?
“Naw! Just Squirrels. We don’t bother the ducks cuz it’s their pond.”
“Of course,” I said. “What’re your favorite snacks?”
“Cookies!” said Abby.
“Apples, carrots and green beans!” added Bea.
“What about Pooch Pals?” I asked.
“We have tons of pals at the dog park. And me, Bea, Mom and Coach sometimes dog-sit for our neighbors. Remember Allie and Ziggy Franzel, the English Cockers you interviewed awhile back? They live right up the street. And we have pals at Paw Prints, a Dog Spa. We call it our Bed and Biscuit!”
“Where do you sleep
“We have our own loft!” said Abby. “We hang out, nap, stuff like that. And sometimes Coach works up there. He repairs fishing rods and reels and we help, in an advisory capacity. We have a king-size bed there, and six more downstairs.”
“Well, look whose here!” Bea said, turning to the doorway. A golden tabby cat was sitting there, tail swishing. “Whazzup?” the cat said.
“Mr. Bonzo, meet our little brother, Junior. We adopted him when we were 3.”
“Love your work!” Junior said to me.
“Thanks!” I replied.
Behind her paw, Abby said, “Junior’s been with us all his life. He’s a total dog in every way, ’cept his cat clothes. You know, trans-species. We play together, sleep together. We think of ourselves as three pooches. And Junior wouldn’t know a mouse if he tripped over one. He even goes out to potty with us. But a little ‘cat’ comes through then, cuz after we’ve Done Our Duty, he covers it up.
“But we don’t play all the time. We also have an Important Job. We protect the property by patrolling the perimeter and doing a lot of Official Watching.”
As I prepared to leave, Abby and Bea headed out the porch door and sat, side-by-side, under a tree, Officially Watching, their heads moving in unison, side to side, their expressions All Business. I knew nothing would escape their eyes.
Till next time,
The Bonz
