There’s NO chance I’ll EVER get bored with my job; you pooches have such IN-trestin’ tails to tell. While I HAVE met quite a few workin’ pooches, I had never met a pooch who was a pruf-FESH-uh-null hunting dog, so preparing to meet English Cocker Span-yull Baxter Cornell, I didn’t know what to expect.
A frenly lady answered our knock, anna middle-size poocheroo bounced happily up for the Wag-an-Sniff. He hadda sleek, black coat inna Summer Cut, some white on his chest, long curly ears (like mine ackshully) anna big smile. I figured he was a puppy, with all his joyful wiggle-waggin’, an that probly he hadda big brother somewhere about.
“Good morning,” I said, innerducing myself an my assistant, an glancing around for the other pooch.
“Helloooo, Mr. Bonzo! This is my human, Lea. My other human, Jim, got a Bran Noo Nee, so he’s takin’ it EASY. I’m Baxter Cornell. I’m an English Cocker SPAN-yull! It’s PAWsome to meet you in the FUR!”
“Oops!” I thought, regrouping. (No big brother.) “It’s a pleasure meeting you as well, Baxter!
I’m lookin’ forward to hearing your tail.”
We followed Baxter an Miss Lea into a comfy livin’ room an got all settled. When Baxter had dispatched the duh-lishus bacony snack my assistant had produced from The Satchel (after permission, of course), I opened my notebook.
“So, Baxter, tell me all about how you found your Furever Family, an what your life’s like, an about your job. To tell the truth, I sorta thought a Huntin’ Dog such as yourself would be, sol-um an seri-us an all biz-ness.”
Baxter laughed. “Oh, woof, no. That’s only when I’m workin’! Lea is my Workin’ Partner.
We’re a Teem! I’m 3 now. When Lea an Jim got me, I was a pupper.”
I flipped open my notebook, an Baxter continued.
“It was up north: place called Milburn, Noo York. Lea an Jim hadda huntin’ dog named Pistol. Then, a fren who was a Dog Trainer told ’em about a FAB-u-lus young pooch, an English Cocker Span-yull pupper with a CHAMP-ion BLOODline, who was Too Much To Handle for his owners. So, the fren asked if Lea an Jim would consider adoptin’ him. (It was ME, of course.)”
“Of course,” I smiled.
“WELL, Lea said there were 3 requirements: I hadda NOT be gun shy; I hadda get along with Pistol; an I hadda be train-ubble. I wasn’t! I did! an I was! So Lea an Jim got ME plus ALL my stuff an important papers about my BLOOD-line (my entire pooch family all the way back to Aberdeen, Scotland, where my famly’s breeder is). An, Mr. Bonz, you’ll NEVER buh-leev what my pooch parent’s BLOODline names were.”
“I bet they were long and funny,” I nodded. “No pooches I know EVER use their BLOODline names.”
“Thank Lassie!” Baxter said. “My Dad’s was Jarailstar Acer and my Mom’s was Kingcott Gracie.”
“Woof!”
“I KNOW! Right? I WAS a little crazy at first cuz I hadn’t really had any training. Not mean or anything, just full of Puppy Energy. But Lea knew just what I needed and (you probly know this, bein’ a SPAN-yull an all): Us workin’ dogs NEED TASKS.”
“Troo!” (I thought I wouldn’t mention that, these days, mine were Writing My Column, Jumpin’ into my pool and makin’ sure I got my Evening Dish of Yogurt.)
“Now,” Baxter continued, “I’m an O-FISH-ull Bird Dog: I’m a FLUSHER, which means I run into the bushes (it’s called In The Field) an stir up the birds. But ONLY when I get the signal.
Lea says words, or does hand signals. OR, she has this Spesh-ull Whistle for when I can’t see her.”
“FASS-inating!” I said “How does that work?”
“Simple! One Toot for Sit. Two toots for Change Direction. Three Toots for Come Back To Lea. WATCH!” Baxter ran over to behind a chair. Lea whistled Three Toots an Baxter zipped back to her.
“Cool Kibbles!”
“I love goin’ hunting with Lea an Jim. When I see ’em gettin’ all the stuff out, an my crate, I get SO excited. In the field, I’m All Business. I sit in my crate and wait till I get the signal.
“But I also love goofin’ around at home. I have a Kong anna red squeaky ball which I never tear up cuz I have a Soft Mouth. When I wanna go for a walk, I bring Lea one of her shoes.
Sometimes two. An sometimes they even match.”
“Any pooch pals?” I inquired.
“Sure! My grrrl-fren Pippa. She’s a Cockapoo. An Jackson, a cool terrier. When we’re onna hunt, there’s Cricket, an English Cocker like me.”
Then Baxter got a serious expression on his usually smiley face. “I wanna be sure to tell you about another thing I learned. (Thank Lassie!) It’s VERY important and Serious.”
My pencil was poised.
“A liddle while back, right near here, I was drivin’ with Lea an this young human was drivin’ right toward us pretty fast an crashed straight into us, head-on!”
“Oh, WOOF!” I gasped.
“Here’s the important part, Mr. Bonzo. See, Mom had her seatbelt on, an the car had those big air bag thingies, an I was safe inside my crate in the back. If I’d been in her lap or loose in the front or back, with my head out the window or something, I wudda gone to Dog Heaven for sure. We were shaken up an bruised, but we made it.
“NOW, when I see fellow pooches with their heads out the window or they’re on their human’s lap I just wanna WOOF at them. I mean, I’m POSITIVE their humans love ’em as much as mine do me. So I guess I jus don’t understand why pooches get to do that. Ya know?”
“Totally, Baxter,” I said. “That’s a very important thing to know. An YOU know First Paw!”
Headin’ home, I was thinkin’ about Baxter’s excitin’ life, an what a fun poocheroo he is. An about his Very Important Story. All you fellow pooches stay safe, OK?
Till next time,
