My innerviewee this week has gone through a lotta stuff I hadn’t been very aware of buh-fore.
He’s what you call a FOSS-ter and woof! Is he fun an in-thuzzy-ASS-tick, even though he’s been through some stuff that’d put most poocheroos inna Dismal Dog Biscuits mood.
I met Boomer an his Official Foster Mom at my assistant’s home. He’s a Very Hansome Poocheroo: reddish color, wavy hair, big brown eyes.
“Welcome,” I said, trotting over for the Wag-an-Sniff. “I’m Bonzo an this is my assistant. You can call me Bonz. It’s a pleasure.”
“Likewise, Bonz. Cool name, by the way. I’m Boomer Barkwaithe Lawrence,” adding (Thank Lassie), “You can call me Boomer,” before I could say, “’Scuse me, how’s that again?”
“This is my Foster Mom Lisa. My Foster brother’s Jesse (he’s about 2 in Dog, what humans call a ‘TEENager’). I also havva Foster Cat Sister, Hazel. She’s WAY old. She was rescued a long time ago from those two hurry-canes, Frances and Jeanne. She’s teachin’ me lotsa mysterious Cat Stuff.”
“Woof! That’s Cool um … Catnip!” I said, opening my notebook. “Make yourselves comf-tubble. I know you’ve hadda lotta serious stuff goin’ on in your life an I up-PREE-she-ate your willingness to share.”
“Happy to, Bonz! I ackshully feel very lucky,” he said, sitting down next to his Mom, an nibblin’ the duh- LUSHUS snack my assistant had (with permission) produced from The Satchel.
“Ready?”
“Yep.”
“So, I was born up near at-LAN-tuh GEORGE-uh. You know where that is? My Daddy is real nice.
I’ve been with him since I was just a pupper (I’m gonna be 4 in August). Me an him hadda lotta fun. But THEN, just when we’d moved into a new place, right buh-fore Christmas, this Very Bad an Sneaky Human did a Very Mean Trick on us cuz he didn’t ack-shully own the home my Daddy had leased. He stole Daddy’s lease munny an we ended up HOMEless. So me an Daddy had to split up while he looks for a Big Pooch-Frenly place, an I hadda go to a foster home, but that didn’t work out cuz they let me run free, when I needed Much More Sooper-VISION. Full disclosure, I’m the kinda pooch who, if there’s trouble to get into, I’ll find it. An get INTO it. It’s my ad-VEN-churrus spirit, I think.”
“I get that,” I commented.
“Anyway, Daddy was duh-TUR-munned to find the Best Foster Home for me, so he went to the GEORGE-uh Dog Rescue. They posted my story on The Line an Florida Dog Rescue saw it an also posted it, with Daddy’s number. An that’s when my New Foster Mom saw me. She called Daddy right away an he an his fren took me to meet her haff way buh-tween there an here. An here I am.
I’m havin’ a great time with Foster Mom an Jesse an Hazel, so I don’t feel all gloomy not bein’ with my Daddy. He texts Foster Mom, like, evry day to see how I’m doin’. An he sent us all my special meds. Daddy even got me all groomed before Foster Mom picked me up. She said I smelled like vanilla an wildflowers, an she’s always sendin’ Daddy lotsa phodos of me so he can see all my fun ad-VEN-churs.”
“So what’s life like, down here in Florida?”
“Pretty Crispy Biscuits so far! Me an Foster Mom go on four walks every day, two long, two short, cuzza all my energy. It offen takes a looong time cuzza lotsa neighbors stoppin’ to give me pats an talk to me. I meet lotsa neighborhood dogs, too. I gotta admit, Bonz, I do like the lady poocheroos. I mean, I don’t see what’s wrong with one or two – or eight or 10 – harmless flirtations, right? After all, it’d be im-paw-LITE to just ig-NORE two um, without tellin’ ’em how nice they look, which they DO, right?”
“Um, err, well, I …” I stammered.
“Anyway,” he continued, “on night walks, I make sure nothin’ bad buh-falls Foster Mom. I grrrr if I think there’s Stranger Danger. An there’s this lake we walk around where there’re LOTSA ducks an squirrels. WELL, of COURSE, I thought I was two SPOSE to chase two um, ya’ know? But turns out I’m NOT. I’m still on that learnin’ curve.
“Jesse’s WAY fun to play with cuz he likes to ruff-n-tumble around like me, speshully right at bedtime. I guess I’m always on the look-out for what’s next.
“For example – an may I just say right up front – How Was I To Know: This one time, Foster Mom was making homemade bread. The oven was heatin’ an she had done what’s called NEEDING, which looked to me like pounding the dog biscuits out this big glob of DOH to make it look like a Loaf. She was waitin’ for it to RISE,(which means gettin’ all puffy looking. It was kinda weird). Anyway, there it WAS, just sittin’ there risin’. So I sorta, well, I totally jumped up on the counter an ate it. All of it. Didn’t taste that good, ackshully. An I had a few liddle tummy ish-SHOES.”
“Oh, Woof! Boomer, I bet you did,” I sympathized. “Any favrite non-doh treats?”
“Sure! I like Milk Bone dog biscuits! AND, I gotta admit, pretty much anything Mom accidently drops while cookin’.”
“Don’t we all!” I agreed.
Heading home, I was thinking about handsome, good-natured Boomer, an about the humans who are helping him stay safe and happy till his Daddy can bring him home. Did you know there’re MANY, MANY pooches like Boomer who need loving temporary foster families who would love a pooch but can’t make what humans calls a “long-term commitment”? For instance, I learned the shelters have hundreds of COVID-era pooches sorta stranded when their owners stop workin’ from home an go back to their workplaces, or have house problems like Boomer’s Daddy. Doesn’t that make you feel so FOR-chew-nut that you have a loving family? It sure does me!
Till next time,
