Chloe an Sutton Fitzgerald give new meaning to the word Cute. To begin with, they’re Westies (West Highland White Terriers), which means they already have lots of Cute Genes. They have curly hair, black button noses, big, dark eyes and triangle ears set at Perky, Alert Mode. Then there’s that sassy little bounce-trot, the wiggly cabooses, and the leaps an flips. Lookin’ at ’em, you’d never dream Westies were once tough, fearless hunters who roamed the Scottish Highlands in search of VERmin.
Soon as me an my Assistant rang the bell at the gate, there was a buncha barkin,’ then here came Chloe an Sutton, zoomin’ up to the courtyard door, barkin’ and bouncing.’ They each hadda pink collar with a big pink water lily. They looked exactly like each other an (just between us) I never did figure out who was who the whole time we were there. I hadda keep askin.’
Their Mom opened the door and, in a nano-second, they were bouncin’ at our feet, all happy an frenly. Sutton even executed a tidy jump-flip-rollover for my Assistant. “Woof! I didn’t even know I could do that,” she exclaimed.
“Good morning, ladies!” I said, after the Wag-(Bounce)-and-Sniffs. “It’s a pleasure!”
”For us, too, Mr. Bonz! I’m Chloe. I’m probly about 10. This is Sutton. She’s 2. I know we look like sisters, but I’m from the ARF rescue center in the HAMPtons, an Sutton’s from an ackshull KEN-el. This is our Mom, June, an our Dad, Dan. I’ll tell you my story first, OK?”
“I’m ready,” I said, pencil poised.
“So, Mom an Dad had Sophie, a rescue Westie. Mom was thinkin’ of getting another puppy, so she put in a request to ARF for a girl Westie. After 2 anna half years, she finally got a call from ARF that they hadda puppy – me! When Mom was getting’ ready to take Sophie to meet me an see if we were come-PAT-ubble, she realized she forgot to tell Dad. Gulp! I was very nervous. I hadda make a Good Impression on Dad, but I mostly hadda make a Good Impression on Sophie, the Grand Dame, cuz if she didn’t like me, I was Toast. So I took a big breath an trotted into that Meet-an-Greet room with my head up, like I owned the place. Thank Lassie, Sophie an Dad liked me right away. Sophie treated me like I was HER puppy, an took me under her wing. She was Top Dog, of course. Then, three years ago, we moved down here. Me an Soph loved it. We chased lizards. She was faster than me, an she usually caught ’em. She’d flip ’em around, which I don’t think they liked that much.
“Anyway, Mr. Bonz, I don’t know if you remember this, but we’ve ackshully met before.”
“We HAVE?” I was surprised.
“Yep! When we were movin’ in, some humans were checkin’ the alarm system, an it went off. Scared the Dog Biscuits outta me. I went flyin’ out the door, out the gate, outta the yard, an ran all the way around the lake smack into this big house. … ”
“Shut the Doghouse Door! That was YOU?”
“Yep. Your famly was so nice. You were, too. A liddle suh-PRIZED, but nice. Your humans picked me up and calmed me down and tried to figure out where I was from. They called the number on my collar, which was my vet in the Hamptons. Finally they got it figured out, an brought me home. So we’re neighbors. Cool Kibbles, right?”
“Totally!”
“Then, in 2016, Sophie went to Dog Heaven. Now she has a liddle spot in the garden, under the crepe myrtle. We were Very Sad, an Mom knew we hadda get another Westie: for me an for her. It hadda be a girl, too. A kennel in Atlanta hadda litter, an asked Mom to write about what Sophie had meant to her. Mom wrote it, an we both cried, an I guess the kennel people cried, too, an they knew we’d be a good pooch famly. So we drove to Atlanta. Sutton was a 10-week-old fluffy white Ball of Fire. We played and played until Mom said, ‘Chloe, this isn’t just a play date. She’s coming home with us.’ WELL, alluva sudden, something came over me: I didn’t wanna share Mom an Dad, or my stuff or my treats or ANYTHING!”
“Woof!”
“I KNOW! I was kinda mean to her at first.”
Sutton, who’d been hanging out on the couch, said, “You were VERY mean to me. But it didn’t take me long to figure out you were Top Dog. An I learned the BOUNDries. You taught me a lotta Important Pooch Stuff, an now we get along great, ’cept you poop out faster than me, an when you don’t wanna play, I munch on the baseboards, which Mom wishes I wouldn’t do. Yep, you’re a great Big Sister.”
“You’re pretty Cool Kibbles, yourself,” Sutton said.
“Lookee, Mr. Bonz,” said Chloe, holding up a picksure. It was her and Sutton snuggled up in liddle pink blankets. “Our human cousin Debbie in Atlanta made ’em for us. She even ’broydered our names on ’em!”
“Pawsome!”
“Oh, I almost forgot,” said Sutton. “I wanted to be sure to tell you to NEVER eat Sego Palm Berries. I ate some and got REAL SICK. Hadda go to a Specialist. I’m still takin’ medicine.”
“Thanks for the heads up,” I said. “I’ll spread the word.”
Till next time,
The Bonz
