This week I innerviewed Miss Reagan Link Hall. She’s a three-anna-half-month-old Pembroke Corgi, a 12-pound puppy with 2 thousand pounds of personality an another ton of energy.
Reagan an her Mom an Dad, Jane an Bob, own an oil an gas business in Vero, an right from when she joined the famly she started working.
Reagan and her Mom were right there to greet me an my Assistant at their busy office. She zipped confidently up for the Wag-an-Sniff. She had a super stylish coat, black an red an cream an white. Her legs were Real Short – I’m pretty sure they were shorter than my ears – but woof! could she move. We did introductions, then got comftubble at a round, important-looking table. Reagan sat on her Mom’s lap. Her Dad was Busy Elsewhere.
“I’m glad you woof-mailed!” I told her. “You sure have had a lotta adventures for a puppy!”
“I KNOW! Mom an Dad are busy people an they wanted a pooch who was energetic an Very Very Frenly … speakin’ of … ’scuse me for a minute.”
She leaped off her Mom’s lap an zipped (she never walked, she zipped) over to a human guy wearin’ a uniform. He gave her a buncha ear friffles an a pat on the head. She wagged head to tail. Back on her Mom’s lap, she said, “That’s my pal Terry. He’s one of our service guys. Didja see his tattoo? I wanna get one when I’m older. A picksure of Rin Tin Tin. Wouldn’t that be cool?”
“Um …” I mumbled.
“All the humans who work here are my frens. I love them, an they love me back.”
“I can tell,” I said. “That is so Cool Kibbles! What IS your official job?”
“Well, I guess you could say it’s Attitude Adjustment an Stress Relief.”
“Say what?”
“Humans just seem to like me. I guess cuz I’m real frenly, an waggy an I have liddle legs, an huge ears an a large smile. I’m very cuddly, also. So if cus-tummers come in with problums, or maybe they’re a liddle grumpy; or if the office or service humans are havin’ what they call “one of those days,” I just go up to ’em an let ’em know I’m glad to see ’em, an they almost always feel Much Better.
“I’m also Mom an Dad’s Right Hand Pup when they fly to their other businesses: one in Minnesota like this one; an a golf course, with horses an goats an cows. The horses are my favorite. They have the softest noses EVER.
“We fly four or five times a month. It’s Pawsome Dog Biscuits. I pay the regular pet fare, an I’m a Delta Frequent Flyer. Mom pulls me through the airport in this pawsome roller bag. I have to go through security just like Mom an Dad. By myself. I wait ’til the security person calls my name, then I just trot through. I’m not even nervous or ANYTHING,” she said with pride. “PLUS, I don’t hafta take my shoes off.” She giggled. “An guess what? There’s a Delta Pet Relief Station in the airport.”
“A what?”
“It’s where us pooches can Do Our Doodie. It’s aMAZing. There’s real grass, anna ackshull fire hydrant we can USE. Anna sink, an poop bags so our humans can tidy up after us.”
“Now I’ve heard EVERYthing! Where are you from originally?” I inquired. “An how did you get that pretty name?”
“I’m from Minne-so-duh. So are Mom an Dad. But they’d moved down here when they got me. Their partner up there had an office Attitude Adjustment Dog, Evie, my older half-sister. She does such a good job, that’s how Mom an Dad decided on a Corgie for their office Attitude Adjustment Dog down here. Me an Evie Woofmail an Face Time, and I’ve been up to visit her once.
“I’m named after a president of the United States. I was gonna be named Queenie for Queen Elizabeth, cuz I’m Queen of the Office, but, thank Lassie, Mom and Dad went with Reagan.”
“Got any pooch pals yet?”
“Oh, woof, yes! Our neighborhood has, like, millions of pooches. I love my fellow dogs. Most of ’em are rescues, Mr. Bonzo. Isn’t that wunnerful? I go kiss ’em on the nose to make frens. There are a few of us purebreds, too, but we’re totally NOT Snob-noses.”
Reagan leaped from his Mom’s lap and zoomed off to say hi to another service person. Then she zoomed back. “’Scuse me. I’m gonna be riding with him today. Makin’ service calls. Very important.”
“Whaddya do when you’re off work?”
“We go to Vikings games. I’ve got a season ticket. Only six more weeks ’til season. See my collar?” She tilted her head.
Yep. Purple an gold.
“Snazzy,” I said.
“I love goin’ to a fishin’ lodge way far up north. We hafta take a boat to get all the way there. I wear my life jacket. We fish an I get to chase chipmunks an squirrels. I can zoom all over the place. It’s my an Dad’s favrit place. We swim, too. I hafta paddle super fast to keep up.”
“It’s been so fun yappin’ with you Miss Reagan,” I told her, preparing to leave.
She jumped down and immediately began chasing her fluffy tail. She did a few twirly circles, and then – ackshully caught it.
“Wook, Mifter Bodzo! Ah CAW did!!”
She was still happily munching as we drove off.
Heading home, I was picksuring liddle Reagan spreading slurps, wiggles an happiness far an wide. An wonderin’ where in the name of Marmaduke she planned to put that tattoo.
Till next time,
The Bonz
