This week I had a Pleasant Porch Yap with a hansome liddle almost-2-year-old poocheroo, a shiny, totally black pug whose Only Mission in Life is bein’ a Perfectly Perfect Companion. Which he IS.
The companion part comes natural cuzza his breed, but finding his Forever Famly, well, that took a lot longer than you’d think.
His Official Pay-pers Name is Pirate of the Treasure Coast Terry, which his Forever Dad picked cuz he’d always wanted a black pug named Pirate.
Me an my assistant walked along a real pretty path to Pirate’s comftubble porch. Pirate trotted confidently up for the Wag-an-Sniff, wearin’ a Crispy Biscuits blue-an-red harness. His tail was curled up on his caboose like a shiny chocolate-covered donut.
“Ahoy! Welcome! Have a seat!” he said cheerfully. “So glad you could make it! I’m Pirate Terry. This is my mom, Linda, an my dad, David. I call him Daway.”
“Umm. Ahoy! It’s a pleasure, Pirate,” I replied. “Are those pirates an ships on your harness?”
“Of course! Gotta look the part,” he said, glancing at my assistant, who was rooting about in The Satchel for a Turkey-an-Sweet Puh-Tay-do Snack. On the prompting of Pirate’s Mom, my assistant said, “Sit!”
After a quick glance at his Dad, Pirate sat, then enjoyed his reward. “Dow I’b breaddy,” he said, then swallowed. “Should I start my story?”
“Absolutely!” I opened my notebook, an Pirate hopped into his Dad’s lap.
“Mom had other Pugs pre-me (but not black; they were the regular Pug color, tan with black faces). When they went to the Rainbow Bridge, Mom said, ‘NEVER AGAIN!’ cuz it made her heart hurt so much. However, when that duh-zeeze thing started last year, Daway said it might be time to get another dog. He wanted a Black Pug who wasn’t a puppy or a Very Old dog. He called a buncha rescue places, an kennels within a 100-mile ray-dee-us, but the rescue places were all out of lap dogs cuz lotsa humans were lookin’ for liddle comfort pooches. The breeders said they’d have what Daway was lookin’ for in 6-months-to-a-year.
He had it narrowed down to three breeders, and him an Mom were waiting. Then one of ’em called an said, ‘I think I have The Dog for You.’
“Meanwhile, when I was 8 weeks old, my breeder sold me to a young famly who had two toddlers (wobbly liddle humans). WELL, I was all happy an playful like puppies are. But, when I was about 6 months old, the mother said, ‘I don’t need THREE toddlers,’ so she sold me to another breeder. Before I could find my Forever Famly, that breeder went to heaven alluva sudden. So I got sent back to my first breeder. My pooch parents, Shade an Stanley, were still there, plus I had six bran-new puppy brothers an sisters. My dad played with me a lot cuz my mom was busy with the puppies. An that’s when my breeder called Daway.”
“So that was your uh-RID-juh-null breeder?” I asked, a liddle confused.
“YES! I ree-lized it was one of those Meant-To-Be things. Mom an Daway were getting a Pug of Stature. Not too old, not too puppyish. Not barky like (no offense) liddle pooches can be.
An black like Daway wanted. An I was (finally) getting my Forever Famly.
“It was when we were drivin’ from my Gulf Coast kennel to my Treasure Coast forever home that Daway decided what my Official PAY-pers name would be: Pirate of the Treasure Coast!
An, guess what?”
“What?”
“Mom an Daway had a whole buncha Dog Stuff waitin’ for me. Two cozy beds, heaps of toys, my very own dishes, a special gate on the kitchen, an a nighttime crate they call a Bunky, like pirates do. After dinner, when Mom says ‘Pirate! Bunky, Bunky!’ I know it’s time to go to sleep.”
“Cool Kibbles!” I exclaimed. “So, what’s your day like?”
“I’ve been takin’ classes at Paw Prints. Mr. Sean says I’m a very quick stoo-dent. I really nail that OB-stikkle course. This Saturday I’m graduating from Beyond Basics. Then I’ll probly take Canine Good Citizen, so I can visit people in hospittles an care homes an help ’em feel Much Better.
“But,” he announced with great emphasis, “I DON’T DO TRICKS! I see no point. For instance, Fetch. Seriously? I don’t have a Fetch bone in my body. I say, ‘YOU throw it. YOU get it.’ Pugs were bred in China to be Com-PAN-yuns. I do like sittin’ by the window watchin’ trucks. I really like trucks.
“Me an Daway have a sunrise roo-TEEN. Daway takes me out to Do My Duty. Then, after breakfast he gets his cuppa coffee (ukky brown stuff, but humans really like it), an he sits in a lounge chair he calls ‘The Treasure Coast.’ We pretend it’s a boat. I sit on his lap, he reads his PAY-per an we sail on the Treasure Coast for a half hour. It’s a pirate thing.
“An then (he pawsed) there’s Millie, a Golden Retriever from across the street. The most beautiful dog in the world. The Love of my Life!”
“So, how’s that going?” I had to ask.
“She might as well live across the ocean. It’s totally un-re-KWY-ded,” he replied gloomily.
“Bummer!” I sympathized.
“But, I have tons of other pooch pals. This neighborhood’s got more dogs than doors. Molly, Logan an Tigger are my leash-walk besties.”
“I noticed how Super Shiny your coat is. Who’s your stylist?”
“Dog Kidz Spa. I get a mani-pedi anna bath, then have a play date with the other spa pooches. All-in-all, I feel Very Lucky Dog. I have a grrreat Forever Famly. Totally worth the wait. Isn’t it Cool Kibbles the way things happen?”
Heading home, I had to agree with Pirate: It IS Totally Cool Kibbles the way things happen that bring the right pooch an the right forever famly together. I also agree with him about that Fetch Thing.
Till next time,
