Riley an Ruger Dillon live in this amazin’ place, with a house anna barn anna pond anna huge big field where they can run an run, an trees an chiggens an ducks, an its way, way far out onna long sandy road …
Oops. I got a liddle carried away. I guess I should start at the buh-ginning.
My assistant pushed a coupla buttons an the gate opened and we drove down a liddle road to a pretty house. A lady, two poocheroos an several Very Important Looking Chiggens came out to meet us.
The lady puh-litely told my assistant to Not Reach Down to the liddle pooch cuz it’d make him Ner-vuss. Of course, my assistant Took Heed.
Both pooches were Very Tidy an had short gold/brown hair. The larger of the two approached for the usual Wag-An-Sniff first and made the introductions.
“I’m Riley Dillon,” she said in a soft, pleasant voice. “I’m 9, an this is my liddle brother Ruger, he’s just 5. We’re rescues. THIS is our Mommy, Georgia. Our Daddy, Rob, is elsewhere. We are very pleased to meet you. Come on in, we’ll talk inside where it’s cooler.”
“I’m so happy to meet you all,” I replied, following them all (except the chiggens) inside.
We got settled an I opened my notebook.
“I’ll be spokespooch,” Riley said.
“But I’ll add stuff time-to-time, too,” said Ruger. “I ’speshully wish to state, up front, that I’m NOT a Bad Dog. I just have ISH-yous.”
“Ackshully,” innerjected Riley, “why don’t you tell Mr. Bonzo your story now, Ruger.”
“I’m ready when you are,” I said, pencil poised.
Rugar began. “I was only about 1 year in human when me an a buncha other pooches got rescued when the puh-LEECE raided a dog fighting ring in Orlando an arrested a buncha horrible, awful humans. Us pooches got taken to a shell-ter. Some of us didn’t make it. I almost didn’t. I am part pit bull and part chihuahua, which, I have come to learn, is a pretty challenging mixture under any circumstances. I was aggressive, but liddle an scrawny, so I had been used for BAIT, which I still can’t even THINK about, even though it’s been years since. All I knew about humans was that they were HORRIBLE.
“If my human sister hadn’t got me for Mommy cuz she knew Mommy was the only human who would take care of me, I’da been what’s called Put Down. Mommy an Daddy took the time to understand me an have always given me my space an respect, an lotsa love — from AFAR often. I am SO LUCKY. But my MEM-rees make me most of the time not wanna be snuggly or get pats an stuff like normal poocheroos, ’cept from Mommy an Daddy, then only on occasion.
“I help out by shooing the chiggens off the porch. An I NEVER, EVER eat the chiggens. OR the ducks. I pride myself on that. That would be RUDE. They’re famly, after all. The ducks are Duck-Duck, Lucky Duck (because he was the only survivor of a bobcat raid several years back), Athos, Porthos and D’Artagnan; and the Chiggens are Chiggen 1, Chiggen 2, Chiggen 3, Chiggen 4 an, oh, poo, I can never remember the last one.
“Also, unlike Riley, I can SING. Me an Mom sing together.” They proceeded to demonstrate and I was very impressed. They both had Very Big Voices.
“Plus,” Ruger added with justified pride, “when I ree-lize I’m bein’ a JERK, I put myself to bed.” He showed me his and Riley’s beds: They were beaudiful, custom-built-by-their-Daddy wood cubbies one on each side of their Mommy an Daddy’s bed, fitted with comfy, fluffy pillows an blankets. Seriously Cool Kibbles!
“Woof, Ruger! Talk about self-awareness!” I exclaimed, impressed. “Thank you for sharin’ your story. You’ve been through so much! I’m glad you have such a wonderful, understandin’ Furever Family!”
“Now me,” said Miss Riley. “I am a Black Mouth Cur who my human sisters Gabrielle an Carmela found at the Vero Beach Humane Society cuz they thought Mommy needed another dog when her former pooch, Sage, a Catahoula Bluetick, went to Dog Heaven.
“Ackshully, Mommy wasn’t thrilled. At All. Speshully when she found out I don’t bark. I had been abused an became so scared I just stopped barkin’. Period. Forever. Meanwhile, Mommy wanted a dog for security, an barkin’ is pretty much a requirement for that job.
But Gabrielle an Carmela persuaded her to come an just take a look.
“Well, Mr. Bonzo, it was love at first sight: Turns out we needed each other. We were a perfect match. I am a Total Mommy’s Grrrl. I love to run. She loves to run. We hang out together. I’m cool with the fam. Even the 5 or 6 cats she had back then. My best human buddy is liddle Everleigh. We’re BFFs. WE snuggle a lot.
“With Mommy, I am the Fetch Queen. I could play Fetch the Ball for, like, EVER!”
“OOOH, I like Fetch, TOO!” Ruger chimed in.
“Weeelll,” Riley laughed, “what YOU like is to Fetch the Ball outta MY mouth.”
“Yes! I wanna be the one to bring it back to Mommy!” said Ruger.
“Any pooch besties? Fave foodstuffs?” I queried.
“We love lamm an rice,” they agreed.
“An we always have a ball hangin’ out with Daddy’s granddog, Blue, he’s a Huskey. He has these Crispy Biscuits blue eyes,” said Riley. “So beaudiful!”
Headin’ home, I was thinkin’ about how lucky Riley an Ruger are to have found a Furever Mom an Dad who love ’em in spite of their backgrounds an challenges. There are so many poocheroos who are in Dire Straits that aren’t their faults an who can be saved with that kinda of love an understanding. It made me wanna give my Gramma an Grampa extra snuggles when I got home, an special thank you’s for my evening dish of yummy yoghurt.
Till next time,
