Woof, did I have a fun innerview this week. Plus, I learned some new stuff, which I always like, cuz it expands my horizons.
My innerview was with the witty Esmerelda Mona Bichsel an her stepbrother, Arthur Robert Bichsel, who is French. They are both Super Cool Kibbles Bull Terriers, the breed that got a splash of Dalmatian a long time ago, an has those long, slope-y Important Looking faces.
Esmerelda had sent me a Woof-mail innerducing herself an Arthur. What she ackshully wrote was “Unfortunately, I have an older, bigger brother.” Then went on to say, “We live with my human parents, Linda and Pierre, and, again unfortunately, one cat, Jackson. Do you need one?” She concluded, “We hope you can come chat with us. We have good treats. My Mommy sometimes makes ’em with peanut butter.’”
Humans in tow, Esmerelda an Arthur greeted us in the front yard, an we exchanged Wag-an-Sniffs. They were good lookin’ pooches, short white fur with some black. The coolest thing was their black polka dots. Not on their fur. On their ackshull skin: pink with polka dots all over, shadowy an sheek, I thought. When I complimented them later, Arthur said, “They’re not polka dots, they’re called ‘ticking,’” an assured me it had Nothing Whatsoever to do with those ukky little blood-sucking bugs, Thank Lassie.
“Good morning, Miss Bichsel. Bone-JURR, Arthur,” I said, using 25 percent of my French vocabulary.
“Bone-JURR, Monsieur Bone-zoe. Bee-N-ven-NOOO,” Arthur replied.
“It’s lovely having you here,” Esmerelda said, making introductions. “Call me Esme. Come, we’ll sit by the pool.”
She led the way, carrying herself so regally I found myself addressing her as Lady Esme, which she totally took in stride (with a small smile).
“I’ll be 6 in June. Arthur’ll be 9 in August. As I’m certain you’ve noticed, I’m MUCH smaller than he. You see (she did a liddle twirl), I’m a Mini Bully an he’s full-size or, as Mommy says, ‘Full Figure.’”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “My sister, she enjoys to point out the obvious. We are, you will quickly see, Yin an Yang. I myself, am – how do you call it – laid back. While Ezz, well … We do agree on one thing, however.”
Before I could ask, a gray/brown tabby cat sauntered up, very small next to us three pooches, but obviously unconcerned.
“Hey there, Bonzo is it? I’m Jackson. I’m a rescue. An what these two poocheroos agree on is ME: They Don’t Like Me. At All. Pretty much for no reason, far as I can see. It’s probly some instink thing. Truth be told, I’m Cool Catnip with that. I’ve gotta great life: hangin’ out, keepin’ the birds an squirrels in line, three squares a day, cozy bed. I mostly just ignore these two doofs.”
With that, he strolled over to the pool screen an curled up for a nap.
Smooth, I thought, turning to Lady Esme an Arthur. “I’d love to hear how you got together.”
“I’ll begin,” Lady Esme announced. “Daddy’s had Bullys for years, 5 before us. I was flown here from my breeder in Mish-again when I was 8 weeks old. You can imagine how cute I was.”
Yes, I could.
“I was well-behaved an enjoying the life of an Only Dog. I love meeting new humans. I sit in the driveway an greet them as they walk by. I am, however, a good bit more, shall I say, picky when it comes to dogs.”
“I will continue the narrative, si’l vous plait,” Arthur innerrupted.
“Alas, my big brother’s story is probably more interesting.” Lady Esme said, an began friffling my notebook pages, then leapt into my assistant’s lap. Arthur began.
“Mon papa very much loves Bull Terriers. He is from Switzerland (and speaks French, as do I). His daughter (my stepsister) remains in France. You see, I was her dog. Then, 4 years ago, she could no longer keep me, so papa an mama adopted me. I flew from Paris to Miami, snoozing most of the journey. At first, at l’aeroport in Miami, it was tres perturbant – most confusing: No one spoke francais and I spoke no anglaise. But soon papa was there to collect me. I was so relieved to hear my mother tongue, an we bonded right away. Now I can get by in anglaise, but when me an papa are together (d’homme a’homme) it is francais. Anyway, as our parents say, No is No in any language.”
“So, whaddya two do for fun?”
“I am quite energetic” Lady Esme announced. “Spinning in circles is My Thing. Ackshully, Daddy (he’s a vet-truh-NARY-un an a new-row sur-jun) says I might need his help cuzza how much I go spinning. I think he’s jus teasin’ me, tho. We love running on the beach, playing Frisbee and Chase. Although we have this lovely pool, we don’t really swim so much.”
“That is so,” agreed Arthur. “When we jump in, we tend to … well, we …”
“We SINK!” said Lady Esme. “Like 40 pounds of wet kibbles!”
“We do enjoy car rides,” Arthur continued. “Send us right to sleep.”
“And we’re ever so fortunate to live near this lovely, sandy road along the river: Jungle Trail. Perfect for walks,” added Lady Esme.
“And we have beaucoup d’amis,” said Arthur.
“Oh, yes, many neighbors an PawPrints classmates: Cooper, a Bernedoodle; Chessie; Mike, a standard poo (from a long line of Mikes); an many more. Oh, Arthur, tell Bonzo about your lady fren.”
Arthur’s nose went from pink to red. “Ah, oui. Chloe. Tres belle. Une Rousse. A Golden Retriever. I sent her a Valentine, but she has not responded. I’m afraid she’s, how do you say, just not that into me.”
“I hear you. I’ve NEVER figured ’em out.”
“Oui. Mystere.”
Too soon, we wished one another adieu. Heading home, nibbling on a peanut butter treat, I was musing that I’d only used half my French phrases. I’ll save the others, “Do you have that in blue?” and “I know your uncle,” for another day.
Till next time,
