A coupla weeks ago I got this Woofmail from Bimini Hayek. She’s a Belgian Melon Waah/Rott-why-lur/German Shepherd mixture, a liddle, testy, but funny an puh-lite.
Bimini wanted to see whether I’d be intrested in innerviewing her sisters Winnie an Gussie.
Of course, I was.
Before me an my assistant arrived, Bimini Woof-mailed a liddle background. Her famly just moved here from Down South last year. Her Mommy’s Caela, then there’s her sisters Winnie, a Boxer/Golden Retreever mixture who’s gonna be 8 on Christmas; and Gussie, a mixture of American bulldog an Australian Dogo (I know! I never heard of that either); plus Gracie, Piglet an Lucie, who I didn’t meet.
Bimini noted, “I’m not gonna lie, I miss our pool. An don’t mind the mess. Our house isn’t quite done yet. But we’re all ’cited cuz Mom’s been learnin’ how to train us, maybe even to be service dogs, specially Gussie, cuzza her bein’ so good nay-chured.”
Bimini an her Mommy greeted us at the door. Bimini was big. And very beautiful. An did I mention BIG?
“So glad you could make it, Mr. Bonzo. This is our Mommy, Caela. I just wanted to welcome you. I know you’re gonna dig my liddle sisters. I’ll be relaxin’ in my room with my bully stick. I’m still pooped from Gussie’s Puppy Birthday Party last night. Mommy made the Most Duh-lishus Cake Ever! An we played an played, so I’m gonna rest if you don’t mind.”
“A pleasure, Miss Bimini,” I said. “You just go get some rest.”
Bimini headed back to her room, an two pretty pooches trotted in, one white with black nose and pink skin with black polka dots; the other brindle, with black trim. Wag-an-Sniffs ensued.
“Hi, Mr. Bonzo. I’m Gussie!” said the white pooch.
“I’m Winnie,” said the brindle. “I’m Official Spokespooch.”
“Good morning, Miss Winnie. An Happy Buh-lated Birthday, Miss Gussie. I can’t wait to hear your stories.”
My assistant produced a couple of treats from The Satchel. Winnie an Gussie’s Mommy said to have ’em sit or give paw before they got a treat, so my Assistant said “Sit,” one atta time.
They both executed very commendable Sits, then gently slurped their treats.
“WE know how to sit!” Winnie said with pride.
“Clearly,” I replied. “Nice job! So, Miss Winnie, I’m ready when you are.”
“Even though I’m not the oldest,” she said, “Mommy got me first, so I feel like I sorta raised the whole bunch, you know? We’re a FAM-ly, ackshully, a Pack, an Mommy’s the Alpha. It works out real well.
“I was just a pupper when Mommy got me. I loved cuddlin’. Still do. An kisses. Mommy’s fren says I’m Dangerously Affectionate. I guess I CAN get a liddle slurpy. Plus, I’m not what you’d call Pleased when Mommy hasta go somewhere an I hafta stay home. So, there’s this thing I do. What I do is, I go find somethin’ an I put it in the middle of the livin’ room floor.
Like one time it was four of Mommy’s shoes, all different. An this one time, it was a box of bakin’ soda.”
“Shut the Doghouse Door!” I exclaimed. “That musta been a mess.”
“Oh, no. I never chewed stuff up or opened the box. I just wanted to get Mommy’s attention.
I was trying to show her what I COULD do when she leaves me alone.”
“Oh, I SEE,” I said. “Clever grrrl.”
“I KNOW! Right?”
“An, not to brag, but I’m Very Smart. I can open doors, an the fridge. An I can run Really Fast, an I am a GREAT JUMPER. An I’m good at what Mommy calls Nose Work (I call it Sniffin’). I also love to swim.”
“We have LOTSA toys,” added Gussie, who had stretched out on a comfy-lookin’ mat. “See!” She indicated a big overflowin’ toy bin.
“Wanna know where Mommy found ME?”
I nodded an turned to a fresh notebook page.
“Everybuddy knows our Mommy is Very Serious about helpin’ Pooches in Need, so somebody Woofmailed her a pickshur of two white pooches (me an Gracie), all adorable dressed up in green hats an ribbons. I was about 3 or 4 at the time an Gracie was a liddle younger, an we were both in Dire Straits. It’s all Very Fuzzy to me now.”
Winnie innerupted. “When I saw that pickshur, I knew my Only Pooch status was in trouble. But soon as I heard Gussie’s story, I was glad Mommy (an our Grammy Muzzie) decided to rescue them.”
Winnie looked at Gussie with a Big Sisterly smile, then lowered her voice an turned to me, “See, some Very Bad Humans made Gussie be a Breeder for puppies that were trained to fight each other. It’s too horrible to even think about. At first, she didn’t even know what a toy was, or what a soft fluffy bed was. I mean, she didn’t even unnerstand the concept of a Ball, an she was scared of everything.” Winnie turned back to Gussie. “Thank Lassie, she doesn’t remember it At All.”
“I do know I have a wonderful life, an we’re happy an safe with our Mommy,” said Gussie happily. “I speshully love sweaters. An Hats! Mommy takes lotsa pickshurs of me wearin’ hats. Look!”
She produced several pickshurs. “Crispy Biscuits, Miss Gussie!” I exclaimed. “You look Totally Top Dog!”
I could’ve filled two columns with their intrestin’ stories. Heading home, I was thinking about Bimini’s big happy famly, an about what a HUGE diffrence humans can make in the lives of us pets. Even sometimes the difference buh-tween ackshull life-an-death. I was also thinkin’ about Gussie’s duh-lishus birthday cake. If I could get the recipe, maybe my Grandma would make one for MY birthday. Or St. Swithin’s Day. Or Tuesday.
Till next time,
