This week I got to yap with a gen-you-wine Florida Cracker pooch from Okee-cho-bee. I’d heard he was 14 in human, an a tad crotch-iddy, so, walkin’ up to the door, I was remindin’ myself to always respect my elders. We could hear a lotta woofin’ even before the door opened. When it did, a lady an this older-lookin’ Beagle were standin’ there. The barkin’ was comin’ from a coupla pooches behind a pooch gate in another room. They schushed soon as the lady told ’em to. The older pooch came over for a Basic Wag-an-Sniff. He was getting’ gray and kinda faded all over, but I could still see his Beagle-y colors, an he had that pawsome Beagle profile I always admired.
“Hey, there, sonny. I’m Cletis Taylor. I’m the boss around here, just so you know. Come right on in. This here’s my Mom, Debra. Those two squawky mutts are my liddle sisters, Gabby an Smiley. Our dad, we call him Big Pop, he’s workin.’ So, let’s go take a load off. You’ll hafta speak up a tad cuz my ears ain’t what they usta be. Mom an Big Pop call me an ol’ man, an I can’t argue. I ain’t as quick as I once was, ’cept when I hear the cookie jar lid. Then I’m On It, like a puppy with springs in his tail. Nobody better get between me an my dried liver cookie treats. Know what I’m sayin’?”
“Yes, sir! It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” I said in my most respectful, outside voice as we followed Cletis an his Mom out to the patio. He immediately flopped down, front paws straight out in front, back paws straight out in back. I couldn’t help thinkin’ he looked sorta like a smushed frog (no offense to frogs or dogs).
“OK, shoot. Whaddya wanna know, young fella?”
“Well, for starters, where you’re from. How you got here.”
“Me an my sister an brother, Biscuit an Rascal, were whelped in Okeechobee, 14 years ago. Cow country. Real pretty out there. We’re purebreds, ya know. Got those dad-gum silly long names nobody uses. Anyways, Mom and Big Pop heard we needed a home. They already had a Beagle, name o’ Foots. Mom wanted a girl pooch. That was Biscuit. But Big Pop was playin’ with me an I was a real cute liddle fellar back then. Big Pop gave Mom Puppy Eyes better’n any pooch I’ve ever seen. So I got to go, too. That left Rascal. Me an Biscuit didn’t wanna leave without our brother, so we all three gave Mom an Big Pop three sets of our very best Major Puppy Eyes. An it worked, Thank Lassie.”
“Woof! What was it like, all four of you pupsters, in your new home? I guess it was real fun an maybe a liddle rowdy,” I ventured.
“Bet your Dog Biscuits it was. Back then Mom an Big Pop were takin’ care of some greyhounds: Charleston an Fawn were rescues who buh-longed to Mom and Big Pop’s human son, an were just visitin.’ Baby an Fig Newton were adopted from a vet who’d rescued ’em from a dog track in Orlando so they could be dog blood donors. Cuz us three were real liddle, wiggly puppies, who racing greyhounds might mistake for something they outta chase, Mom an Big Pop innerduced us outside, one atta time. Evenshully, everything worked out just dandy.
“An, when the four of us got togther under a big ol’ tree an practiced our bayin,’ we usta drive the squirrels NUTS! Mom’s always remindin’ the tree-trimmin’ guys to leave a path though the treetops for the squirrels.”
“That’s so thoughtful,” I commented.
“You wanna hear my bay, young fella? I still got it!”
“Maybe later,” I replied quickly.
“Back in our puppy days,” Cletis continued, “nothin’ was safe. The miss-chuff one of us didn’t think of, another did. Bein’ Beagles an all, we loved trackin’ stuff. One liddle sniff an off we’d go. Mom an Big Pop hadda be sure we didn’t go out without our leashes cuz, if we caught an innersting smell, POW! we were off like a flea collar, noses to the ground. We’d stick to that smell like glue. Why, you could set off a stick o’ dynamite and we wouldn’t pay no mind. That’s fine when you’re workin’ inna field or someplace like that, but not where you can get smushed by a truck.”
“I see your point.”
“One time I got in Big Trouble. Mom an Big Pop’s daudder-in-law had these real fancy, ’spensive shoes, called ’em SAN-dulls. Well, I accidently sorta ate one. The other one was jus fine, but everybody was still Real Peeved. I also usta love toilet paper. Grab it real gentle-like, then take off runnin,’ fancy up the whole house. Those were good times. I quit toilet paper for years, but, recently, I’ve been relivin’ those glory days again. They usta call us the Beagle Brigade. We were somethin’ to see.”
Cletis gave a sigh. A faraway look crossed his face. “Over the years, they’ve all crossed the Rainbow Bridge, ’cept me. I’m the Last Remaining Beagle. Now I hang out with my sisters. They’re big girls, ain’t nothin’ like me. Smiley, we call her Dennis the Menace, an Gabby, she’s real calm an laid back. They know I love ’em. Hey now, before you head out, I’ll show you my bay. You ain’t never heard anything like it.”
Heading home, I was re-playin’ all Cletis’ Cool Kibbles stories. An the sound of his big beautiful bay was still echoing in my ears.
Till next time,
The Bonz
