This week I innerviewed Dixie May Kennedy, a super cute, three-color Bee-gull. She looks like the Bee-gull that human ardist, Norman Rockwell, put in lotsa his pickshures. Dixie May’s a purebred, with PAYpers an evrything, but she’s not a Snobnose. She’s got a great dog-onality an real nice posture, also.
Soon as my assistant knocked, there was a big, kinda startling ‘Ahhhh-ROOOOOOooo.’ But, when the door opened an there was this perky liddle pooch, I’m like, ‘How did that big voice come out of that liddle lady?’
She trotted up for the Wag-an-Sniff, an I introduced myself an my assistant.
“You’re even more hansome in the fur than in your pickshur,” she said.
I grinned like a doof, an mumbled thank you.
“This is my Mom, Cheryl an my Dad, Pat. My pooch fren Laci was in your column an it was way Cool Kibbles, so I Woofmailed, an here you are. See, I’m wearin’ my beauiful red collar so I look my best, Mr Bonzo.”
She had brown an white polka-dot kneesox, a white-tipped black tail, an big bright eyes. I guess I was just standin’ there with a goofy smile cuz she said, “Did you wanna ask me some questions, Mr. Bonzo?”
“Right! Yes! Absolutely! So, Miss Dixie May, how did you find your Forever Family?”
“Honestly, I almost didn’t. I was on sale inna pet shop at the Melbourne Mall, but nobody was innersted, for some reason. Meanwhile, once a month, Mom an Dad had this roo-teen: They’d go to dinner at the Chinese restrunt in the Melbourne Mall, then walk around the Mall after. They had noticed me in the pet shop when I was just a liddle puppy. They’d paws, but they weren’t thinking about getting a dog. Well, for the next five months, evry time they walked by, there I still was, an since they never stayed long, I didn’t get my hopes up. By the sixth month, they were feelin’ real sorry for me, cuz obviously nobody wanted me. So Dad made the pet store guy an offer. They did that back-an-forth thing for a while, till Dad finally won, thank Lassie.”
“Woof, Dixie May. They were lucky to get you. I mean, you’re a PUREbred. With PAYpers. And you’ve got such a great dog-onality.”
“Yes, I ’spose that’s true. But I’m lucky, too. I mean, what if Mom an Dad’d liked Italian food? At first I was sorta nervous, so I chewed stuff. Mom kept track. I totally chewed up the hall runner; two bathmats; two indoor/outdoor rugs; Mom’s (very) special pillow; and Dad’s flip-flops. Mom still has to rescue her shoes sometimes. But I learned the Rools About Doing My Doody; an I can Sit an Give Paw an Stay (mostly).
“I admit I still like to hide stuff: shoes or sox or bone chews. I bury ’em, usually in the couch. Then I can refer to ’em later, you know?”
“Yup, I do.”
“I also love chewin’ ice. Whenever I hear Mom getting’ ice out of the fridge, I run right over. One time, I got a nice big piece of ice an buried it in the couch for later. But when I went back to get it, it was gone. I still don’t know what happened to it. I searched everywhere.”
“I noticed what a Big Bark you have,” I commented, tryin’ not to laugh.
“Oh, that. See, I’m a hound, so bayin’ comes natchrull – now – but since my pooch Mom didn’t have a chance to teach me, I didn’t bark at all till I’d been here for two months. One day, there was a knock at the door. As I ran to check it out I heard this Big Loud Howl. It scared me and I hid under the couch. Then I heard Mom an Dad laughin,’ and I ree-lized – it was ME. It was my First Official Bay.”
“What’s your typical day like?” I queried.
“I get two daily walks cuzza havin’ lots of energy. When me an Mom get back, Dad’s waitin’ for us, and I zoom right to him. I guess I’m a Daddy’s Girl. An I always hafta know where Mom an Dad are. They hafta keep the doors open so I can see ’em both. Then I feel Safe an Secure.
“I have tons of pooch pals I see at the Bark Park or on walks or play dates. My BFF is Ava Walker, she’s a Cavalier King Charles. She loves to dress up. Has lotsa outfits. But not ME. I have a boyfriend, Max, he’s a Mix. We put our front paws on each other shoulders an dance.” She sighed.
“An I have playdates with The Boyz: Sam, Cosmo an Willie Trotta. They’re like my brothers. I keep up with ’em, too, cuz I’m real strong. Then there’s Champ. We call him The Baconator. You can probly guess why. Oh, an Chase, he’s my new neighbor, a 10-week-old Golden Retriever puppy. He looks like a liddle teddy bear.”
“Do you like travlin’?”
“Just to the Bark Park. I Barf in the car. It’s embarrassing.”
“I see you have a nice pool,” I changed the subject.
“When I first got here, I accidently fell in. It scared the kibbles out of me. Now I just do laps around it. I chase birds an lizards, but Mom an Dad say not to ackshully catch ’em. I usta eat bugs. (Don’t tell, OK?) Mom an Dad say No Bugs! They look so duh-licius, they’re hard to resist, but they make me throw up, so I guess I should quit, doncha think?”
“Abso–woofin’–lutely Miss Dixie May. No More Bugs!”
Headin’ home, I was thinkin’ about Miss Dixie May and her polka-dot kneesox, an bouncy liddle trot. An how glad I was she’d stopped eatin’ bugs. An wondrin’ if I was too old to learn to dance.
Till next time,
The Bonz