This week I innerviewed Benji Rode. Best as he can guess, he’s a liddle poodle, maybe, an a liddle terrier, maybe. An a lotta spunk, for sure.
We met at Benji’s house, along the river. Way Cool Kibbles. If I hadn’t been On The Clock, I woulda stayed an played all afternoon. There was his place, anna coupla others, around a big grassy yard on the water. Several pooches ran up to greet us, an there were wag-an-sniffs all ’round.
“Nice place you have here.”
“Thanks. We’re Lucky Dogs! So, this is my Mom, Cindy, an my Dad, Capt. Bill, an my human fren Thais; an my pooch pals: Mia, Miss Bella, Chimi an Kobi.”
“I know your story’s an amazin’ story, Benji. Are you ready to tell it?”
“Ab-so-woofin’-lutely!” Benji jumped into his Mom’s lap. “Ready?”
I opened my notebook.
“I’m a liddle fuzzy about some of this. I can’t remember a famly, or my litter. First I remember was being out in the boondocks near Road 60. There were swamps anna lake an trees an stuff. I was totally lost an scared. But I knew I hadda be cahm an use my in-stinks or I’d be Toast: ’specially cuzza bobcats and even more ’specially cuzza those Seriously Creepy gators. All the swamp animals an birds were scared of ’em cuz those ol’ gators’d just eat ’em, whenever they wanted to. I mean, I’d hear a splash an a squawk an look around, an there’d be nothing but a buncha feathers. I coulda been total lunch.
“I hung out in the bushes near the lake, to stay cool and safe. Well, sorta safe.
“I spent a lotta time hunting for foodstuffs. I even crossed that scary 60 road sometimes. I knew it was dangerous, cuz I saw a lotta animals that hadn’t made it across. A few times a day, I went down to the lake for water. I couldda got grabbed but I hadda chance it.
“Most days there were a buncha big Very Loud boats with lotsa seats. Humans called ‘Captains’ drove ’em an told stories about the marsh. All day long, people’d come and take rides. I’d stay hidden till they were gone, then scope the place out for any food they’d left. I know humans aren’t s’pose to litter, but I’m glad they did.”
“Woof, Benji! I can’t imagine how you even MADE it.”
“A dog’s gotta do what a dog’s gotta do,” he replied, philosophically. “Anyway, as fate would have it, Capt. Bill hadda boat called Gator Bait. One afternoon, after all the riders and other captains had gone, Capt. Bill was loadin’ up, when he spotted me lyin’ under his van, tryin’ to keep cool. He squatted down an said, ‘Come here, boy,’ real soft an nice. But I took off like he’d thrown a rock. Capt. Bill put half his san-witch in the grass, then drove off. When he was gone, I grabbed it. It was WUNNER-ful. Ham an cheese. I’ll never forget it.”
Capt. Bill had told Mom about me an, even though they swore they’d Never Get Another Dog after the Love of Their Life, Duke, had gone to Dog Heaven, they decided they wanted to adopt me.”
“Happens all the time,” I commented.
“Next day, when Capt. Bill was loadin’ up, the Dog Catcher showed up an asked if Dad’d seen a pooch that fit my description. He’d been tryin’ to catch me for two weeks, even set traps. Capt. Bill said yes. An said he’d fed me. The Dog Catcher said, ‘Don’t, cuz I want him to eat the bait in my trap.’”
Next time Capt. Bill saw me, I was playin’ with a plastic Wal-Mart bag. When he told Mom, she felt even sadder and wanted me even more, so I’d be happy an safe and not hafta play all alone, with a plastic bag.
“One afternoon Mom an Capt. Bill spotted me in the parkin’ lot, heading back into the swamp. I turned to look at them. My in-stinks said they were Pooch Frenly. But I wasn’t sure. I continued into the trees.
“For weeks, Capt. Bill would leave me some of his san-witch, an I kept getting closer an closer till one day, I ree-lized I wasn’t scared, an I took a piece out of his ackshul hand. The next time, the Dog Catcher was with Capt. Bill. I walked right into the cage to get the food. An poof! They got me. But, you know, Bonz, I wasn’t scared at all. Soon as I got checked out at the Pound (an had the No Puppies Procedure), Capt. Bill an Mom got to take me home. An here I am. I’m So Happy! It’s Pooch Paradise!
“Mom an Capt. Bill usta call me a Swamp Dog, but now I’m a River Dog. An, guess what? I’m Capt. Bill’s Official Gator Bait Airboat Customer Relations Director an Tour Guide. Right up front next to Capt Bill. An have my own life jacket; I love goin’ real fast, with the wind blowin’ my ears back!”
“Whaddya do on land?”
“I am a Frisbee Master. I run, leap an catch that Frisbee before it or me even hit the ground. Watch!”
Benji took off across the lawn toward the river, an Capt. Bill threw the Frisbee. Just before I thought it was gonna sail out over the water, BOOM! Benji leaped up and nabbed it. It was pawsome!”
“My personal best is 25 air catches in a row,” he said. “The other thing I love is travelin’ inna car. Specially stayin’ in the Marriott or the Hilton. I’ve been all over: New York, Tennessee, Georgia. Grandma Ann even got me my own luggage for Christmas.
Heading home, I was thinkin’ about Benji’s amazing story. I mean, in all that time as a Swamp Dog, he coulda been munched by a gator; or smushed by a truck on 60; or what if he didn’t like ham an cheese?
Till next time,
The Bonz
