This week I met a member of a rare pooch breed, recently the 197th breed recognized by the American Kennel Club, which as you know, is a VERY BIG Crispy Biscuits DEAL.
Li’l Miss Chloe Johnson, all 4-dot-9 pounds of her, is a Biewer Terrier (pruh-nownsed BEE-ver). It’s GER-man, named after the humans who cree-ated it.
My assistant rang the bell, anna lady opened the screendoor whilst scoopin’ up an itsy liddle fluffball wearin’ a pink dress that said “Little Princess.” She looked a lot like a teensy Yorkie, with a sticky-uppy ponytail smack on top of her head, tied inna pink hairbow, bunny-soft fur, bright eyes and a Totally Boop-ubble nose. Before I could innerduce myself the wiggly liddle fluffball jumped back down.
“HI! I’M CHLOE! I KNOW WHO YOU ARE! YOU’RE MR. BONZO AND YOU’RE GONNA WRITE A STORY ABOUT ME AND TAKE MY PICK-CHUR AND IM GONNA BE FAY-MUSS! I’M SO EXCITED! COME IN! DO YOU WANNA WATER? THIS IS MY MAMA DONNA. I JUST HADDA BURF-DAY. THIS IS MY BURF-DAY DRESS! I’M ONE WHOLE YEAR OLD! I GOT TWO NEW LAMS! I HAVE A WHOLE BUNCHA LAMS! I LOVE LAMS!”
(Chloe indicated a pile of lam Stuffys on the table. They all looked like that famous TV star, Lambchop, ’cept one, which was bigger, an round. It was her Suh-cure-uddy Lam, she explained.)
When the liddle muffin took a breath, I jumped in: “Happy First Birthday, Miss Chloe! I’m well hydrated for now but thanks for asking. I’d love to hear how you an your Furever Mama found each other. You don’t hafta call me Mister. Just Bonzo’s fine.”
Chloe snuggled up next to my assistant. “So, Mama had a Very Sad Loss of her human son, an her daughter said she should get a puppy to keep her comp-nee. Mama had a Yorkie, Spatzie Girl, who got to be 18 in human, Very Old in Dog. Anyway, she’d seen a pooch like me, asked what it was, an decided then-an-there she wanted one – of course. I mean, LOOK at me! Right?”
No question about it: “BEE-vers” take ‘adorable’ to a whole new level, pooch-wise.
“Anyway, Mama found a breeder in Fort Law-der-dale, with a bran new litter, an picked me cuz she liked my colors. An I was the RUNT. Altho, Mr. Bozo, I pruh-fur to say, ‘The Most Delicate an Dain-tee.’”
“Indeed,” I agreed. “Far better.”
“When Mama came to fetch me at 8-weeks-old I was one whole pound anna HAFF. Fluff doesn’t weigh that much, I guess. Anyway, she just stuffed me in her shirt an I snoozed all the way to my new home.”
‘You mean, like, while she was wearin’ it?”
“Yep. Nobody could even see me unless I peeped out. It was very cozy. Mama carried me around that way a lot cuz I was so small she was afraid she’d step on me. Ever since Spatzie went to Dog Heaven, it’s been just me an Mama. When we hang out I bop her feet for some reason. I also like to rip up paper. Or Kleenex. I don’t eat it tho. Once I did eat some liddle rocks. Mama called ’em pea gravel. I hadda to go to the vet. I only did it that one time.
“I like watchin’ TV, too, speshully ‘Mountain Vet’ and zoo shows. I watch for hours. When the rhino or a kangaroo come on, I get VERY NERVOUS! They’re kinda scary.”
“I bet you have lotsa Pooch Pals,” I commented.
“Ooooh, YES, Mr. Bozo. Neighborhood pooches: Ginger, a mini pin-wa-wa mixture, I think.
Her human’s Mama’s BFF. Maggie Mae, a Choc-late Lab, an Aria, a Pug. Then there’s my BOYfren Armani, a Yorkie.
“An Susie, who we met in Home Depot. I was in Mama’s cart an we spotted Susie in HER Mama’s cart an Mama yelled, ‘HEY! You-Hoo! With the Dog! Stop!!’
“See, Susie an me totally look like each other. She’s a BEE-ver like me, PLUS she’s a snowbirddog from Minnie-Soda, so we visit when she’s down here.
“I also have liddle human neff-yous in MASS-uh-CHEW-sits: RJ, Jace, Armani an Cameron. They’re WAY fun.”
“Any fave foodstuffs?”
“Well, Armani comes over every morning for breck-fist, an we usually have turkey or chicken patties an GREENbeans. Today we had fill-LAY! I also love STRAWberrys, BLOOberries and WADERmelons. An, when Mama has her bedtime treat, I get my MOS Favorite: a liddle pile of Sugar-Free Whipped Creem!!”
“Yumm. Do you like travelin’?”
“TOTALLY! Cars AN planes. When we fly to Boston I start out in my under-the-seat container, an end up in Mama’s shirt, sleepin’.
“I also help Mama in her Very Important Job, Mr. Bonzo. She’s a caregiver for people, an we go to their house an help ’em an stuff. I sit buh-side ’em (or on their lap if they want) an they pat me and sometimes talk to me an I make ’em feel ruh-laxed an happy. An that makes ME feel happy, ya know?”
“I absolutely do, Miss Chloe!” I replied. (It’s one of the best gifts us pooches can give, right?)
“Ooo, Oooo, Oooo, an,” she said excitedly, “Buh-for you hafta go, I GOTTA show you my WAR-drobe. I KNOW you’re a boy an all, but you’re Pretty Spruce, so I know you’ll uh-PREE-shee ate my clothes.”
She zoomed off an came back draggin’ a bag at least two times bigger than her, an began rootin’ around in it. There was assortment of stylish halters; fluffy dresses in all colors; PJ’s; Chrissmuss outfits; Halloween cos-tooms; swedders; hoodies.
My fave was her black-an-white striped PJ’s with red trim. Totally On Trend. (Hey, I read ‘Dogue’ and ‘Barker’s Bazaar.’)
The hour had zoomed by. As we pulled outta the drive, she called after us, “Bye, Mr. Bonzo! I can’t wait to be FAY-MUSS!”
Headin’ home, I was picturin’ Li’l Miss Chloe joyfully twirlin’ in her pink ‘burf-day dress,’ or sittin’ quietly in someone’s lap, bringin’ smiles and happiness to a solitary life. I was also thinkin’ about sugar-free whipped cream, which might go very nicely with my evening dish of yoghurt.
Till next time,