Murphy an Wallace Kasper are adopted brothers. Murphy’s 6. He’s a trim an tidy, black-an-white purebred Boston Terrier with bright boogly eyes. He has PAYpers an everything. But he’s not a Snobnose. Wallace (call him Walley) is somewhere around 5. He’s a Mix or, as he puts it, “I’m a Mutt, an proud of it!”
They were both at the door for wag-an-sniffs, an Murphy introduced himself an Walley, then, “This is our Dad Michael. Our Mom Sherri’s restin’.”
“Delighted to meet you,” I told them.
Murphy made snorty sounds when he talked, which was a LOT. At first I thought he was growlin’, but he explained Boston Terriers sometimes snuffle cuzza their short noses.
We got all situated, but Murphy remained standin’ and movin’ around. Walley, on the other paw, curled up on the couch. He was mostly white with a nice brown head anna pleasant face, which looked very Beagle-y. I wouldda thought he WAS one ’cept for his real short legs.
“It’s way cool kibbles you’re gonna write about us, Mr. B.,” he said. “I’m a REScue. Everybody figgers I’m about 5, an that I’m a mix of Beagle an Corgi.”
That explained the legs.
“Ready when you are,” I told them.
“I’ll begin,” said Murphy. “I am from Deerfield Beach. I was the biggest puppy of my litter, an the only one left when Mom an Dad found out about us. They were ‘between dogs’ at the time, and weren’t really lookin’ for another pooch. But the litter lady knew ’em and offered ’em a DEAL. I was On Special for a bargain price, plus I was super cute, so they said OK.”
“You got lucky,” I observed.
“Bet your dog biscuits I did,” he agreed, “but Mom an Dad, ummm, not so much.”
“Huh?”
“Well, full disclosure, I was what humans call ob-KNOCK-shus. Very, very ob-KNOCK-shus. Us Boston Terriers are really smart an frenly, but we can be a tad, well, stubborn. See, Mom and Dad had agreed with the breeder that I could work as an Official Pooch Daddy cuzza my excellent bloodline. But I was such a Total Pain in the Kazoo when Mom an Dad were raisin’ me an tryin’ to train me, they finally gave up an got me the No Puppies Procedure. I think potty training was what humans call the Last Straw. I don’t remember seeing any straws, but they seemed pretty sure that was the Last One.
“Now, I’m wa-ay better (except for ripping up palm fronds). But I have a feeling I’m Super Lucky they didn’t give up on me.”
“Me too,” chimed in Walley, from the couch. “Or I would of never had such a cool kibbles big bro.”
“I’m happy things worked out for you. So what’s your story, Walley?”
“I was real young when some humans – might have been the Pooch Pleece – picked me up wanderin’ around inna field near Lake O.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s this huge buncha water, you know, a lake, but big as an OH-shun, in the middle of the state. Its ackshull name is really long (I can’t even say it) but it’s got a lotta ‘ee’s.’ Anyway I was adopted by my human brother, Shawn, who I love. But I was alone a lot cuzza his work, so he brought me here to live with Mom an Dad an Murphy. I love it now, but at first I cried an cried cuz I missed Shawn. Now I get to see him when he visits, so it’s OK.”
“How did you two pooches get along at first?”
“Well,” said Murphy, “we both like our own space, you know. I was bigger an older an not thrilled about sharing Mom an Dad. At first, the liddle pupster pretty much just hid under the barstools, an I ignored him. After about three days, I guessed he got tired of hidin’, an I figured out he wasn’t goin’ anywhere. Now we’re fine. We sometimes squabble like brothers do, but not that much. Mom an Dad get us both the same toys. Here, I’ll show you my favrite.”
Murphy dashed out an dashed back with this liddle black tire. It was Super Crispy Dog Biscuits. Nice an chewy, I figured.
“Here’s mine,” added Walley, hopping down to retrieve a well-munched red an white sorta bone-on-a-rope.
“Nice,” I commented. “Whaddya do for exercise?”
“The yard is scary cuzza the bobcats an gaders an raccoons,” said Walley. “They LURK. We usually hang out on the screen porch. We can run around an get fresh air, an we don’t hafta worry about gettin’ eaten. We have nap mats out there, too. But we usually sleep with Mom an Dad. Murphy’s a Daddy’s boy.”
“That’s true,” said Murphy. “I often fall asleep in his lap. It’s comforting.” He sighed. “When I was younger, I used to dance. Up on my back legs. Just twirlin’ an twirlin’. Now, not so much.”
“Do you do car rides?”
“Yep. We love car rides. Even long ones. I always look at all the cool stuff goin’ by.”
“Me, I mostly nap,” said Walley. “That’s cuz I’m too short to see out. I think maybe I’m a cat at heart. I mean, I love nappin’. An loungin’ on the couch an watchin’ the world.”
“I can’t buh-leeve you just said that,” exclaimed Murphy, smiling. “I mean, when you let go with that big bay of yours, NOBODY’D think you were a cat. Show Bonzo what I mean.”
Well, laid back, chilled-out Walley sat up, lifted his chin an let go with the biggest, most resounding bay I’ve ever heard.
“Pawsome!” I told him, re-fluffing my ears.
He plopped back down. “I don’t have much reason to use it anymore, but it’s nice to know it’s there if I ever need it.”
“No kiddin’,” I agreed.
Headin’ home, I was thinkin’ about Walley’s amazin’ voice, an tryin’ to remember the last time I’d barked. I couldn’t. Maybe I should practice.
Till next time,
The Bonz