WOOF! Did I have a Crispy Biscuits time this week in the COUNTRY, where I met several Pawsome fellow pets, all rescues, now enjoyin’ their Best Life EVER.
Me an my assistant drove past trees an feelds till we got to a looong dirt road. Made me wanna jump out an FROLIC! But I was On The Clock. I told myself to FO-cuss!
When we got to a big gate anna box-onna-pole, with numbers on it, we spotted a house anna BARN an shady trees. My assistant punched some numbers on the box, an that gate opened like magic. When we turned in at the house, two liddle humans ran up to say hello, followed by a lady in what’s called a “Golf Cart.” THEN a spruce liddle black-an-white GOAT (not much bigger than me) trotted up. He had a frenly face an shiny black horns.
“HAY! Mr. Bonzo! I KNEW it was YOU cuzza your pickshur in the PAYper. I read your COLL-um! Then I ate it! I’m Oreo an these are my liddle brothers Hunter an Liam (they’re 5), an Gramma Laurie. I’m o-FISH-ull SpokesPet.”
“Pleasure to meet you all!” I said, introducing my assistant. “You sure have a nice place!”
“So, let’s load up an take a liddle TOOR,” Oreo said. “Your assistant can sit up front with me an Gramma Laurie, an you can hop in back with Hunter an Liam, OK?”
“Sounds like a plan!” I said, hoppin’ up. Oreo settled buh-tween Gramma Laurie an my assistant, whom he immediately began nuzzling. Naturally, my assistant was havin’ the Best Time EVER.
Off we went, toward the barn, as Oreo explained that the gray paper containers with all the funny liddle scoop-outs Gramma Laurie had handed to the boys were Egg Cartons, for gatherin’ ackshul EGGS, which the famly chiggens had Just Laid.
I was a liddle fuzzy about how eggs ackshully happened so I pruh-pared to make lotsa notes.
Cartons at the ready, Hunter an Liam led the way to a liddle shed with straw on the floor (a COOP, Oreo said). Gramma Laurie an my assistant had to duck down goin’ in. It was sorta dark, an soft clucks an bwaaks emitted from hay-cushioned shelfs along one side. When my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I spotted chiggens sitting side-by-side on the shelfs, feathers puffed up like pillows. They were very pretty, I thought, with different colored feathers, red decorations, an yellow-ish bills, sittin’ serenely on their hay beds.
“So, Bonzo,” said Oreo softly, “I’d like you to meet our Chiggens, also known as HENS cuz they lay eggs: a Very Important Job! Ladies,” he announced, “meet my fren Bonzo. He’s writin’ a COLL-um about us for the PAY-per!!”
Instantly a loud chiggen chorus obliterated the serene silence.
“BWAAK! What’s a COLL-um?”
“BWAAK! What’s a PAY-per?”
“BWAAK! How do my feathers look?”
“BWAAK! Wait till I turn to my Best Side!”
“BWAAK! Don’t look at me! I’m molting!”
“BWAAK! He’s a strange-lookin’ goat!”
“BWAAK! Move over, Sylvia. You’re on my egg.”
“It’s a great honor to meet you, Ladies!” I told them.
Just then, Hunter an Liam approached, egg cartons at the ready, an began carefully pokin’ about under the chickens, soon triumphantly withdrawing their hand, gently cradling a lovely egg.
When the cartons were full, we piled back into the golf cart and headed for a meadow to meet Rusty, a big, hansome, young quarterhorse, with a dark red gold coat. Hunter an Liam instantly jumped out and began giving Rusty hugs, pats an some Healthy Snacks.
“I’m use to bein’ an Only Horse,” Rusty confided. “A coupla new horses just arrived, so I’m takin’ it easy gettin’ to know ’em. It’s not the same with my Besties Hunter an Liam. We understand each other.” He nuzzled Hunter to illustrate.
“Let’s go find those Barn Cats,” suggested Oreo. Three cats were hangin’ out in front of the barn. “Yo’, Oreo, ’sup?” said the gold and white, glancin’ up. “Who’s your fren?”
“This is Bonzo. He’s a journalist. He’s doin’ a story on us,” Oreo replied. Then, to me, “This chill dude is Yellow; this,” nodding toward a gray cat loungin’ by the barn door, “is Bubbles, an here comes Barn Cat.” A calico strolled up.
“Pleased to meet you all,” I said respectfully.
“Likewise,” replied Barn Cat. “I think of us sorta like firemen. Mostly, we just hang out. But then, when there’s a Fire (or in our case roe-dunts), we spring into action. We’re Professionals.”
“Impressive,” I said.
“Let’s go check out the cows,” said Oreo, jumpin’ in between Gramma and my assistant. We bumped across the pasture, to where two good-lookin’ cows rested under a tree.
“Bonzo, meet Cupcake an Meat, mother an son.”
“A pleasure!”
Cupcake was a vanilla-colored cow; Meat, a pale golden steer, was slightly smaller. They’re both Brahmans, Oreo explained.
“Welcome to our home,” Cupcake said sotto voce.
“I betcha wanna know how I got my name,” innerjected Meat.
I did.
“Well, I wudda been raised for beef. An you know what THAT means.”
I did.
“But we both got rescued, an now we’re here. So my name reminds us of how close we came to, well, you know. An how fortunate we are!”
“Woof! That’s Troo! I’m SO happy for you!” I replied fervently.
The hour had gone by Too Fast. I cudda hung out with Oreo an his pals the whole day.
Heading home, I was thinking about all the new frens I’d made, an how they all live together peacefully an happily, each one just doin’ their own thing.
