This week I hadda Super Fun Yap with a poocheroo who’s a breed I wasn’t fuh-MILL-yer with: Queensland Blue Heeler (aka Bluey). PLUS, he has a Totally Crispy Bikkies name: Stoli Wolf! See what I mean?
Anyway, buh-fore me an my assistant had even got outta the car, the front door opened anna man, a lady, anna pooch came out to greet us.
The pooch was eye-catchin’: medium-size, sturdy an muscle-y, an his coat was uh-MAZE-zing. Short, thick, the color is hard to duh-scribe: blackish, grayish, bluish, with gold sox anna white, cross-shaped “Bentley Mark” on his nose.
Soon as the driver door opened, Stoli came over to my assistant, nose-bumpin’ an wigglin’.
He was tail-free, but hadda snazzy, swirly cowlick on his caboose.
“G’day, mates,” he said. “I’m Stoli Wolf an this is my Dad Ron an my Mom, Linda. Come’on in.”
“Good morning, everyone! It’s a pleasure!” I said as we followed them inside. “This is my Assistant.”
“Wud-ja like some wader?” Stoli asked, trottin’ to the kitchen for a coupla slurps.
“Thanks. I’m good,” I replied as we settled in onna nice big couch. “I can’t wait to hear your tail! You’re the first Queensland Blue Heeler I’ve ever met. What does that name mean?”
“Well, Queensland’s a state in Australia: a Very Big island country on the total other side of the entire world from here. Queensland’s off the Great Barrier Reef. The ‘blue’ or ‘blue roan’ is cuz us Blueys have super thick, two-layer coats (kinda our A/C system), a mixture of black-an-white which humans think looks kinda blue. The heeler part comes from our breed’s Job: herding caddle! We run buh-hind the caddle an, if they don’t wanna go, we nip their heels to get ’um to giddyup. Sometimes we don’t even have to ackshully touch ’em, just make um THINK we’re gonna.”
“Woof!” I exclaimed, impressed. “That Is Totally Crispy Biscuits!” (Stoli later told me some Australian words: fur example, Biscuits are Bikkies. I’ve been practicin’, for fun.) “So where did you an your Furever famly meet? In Australia?”
“Nope, I’ve never been to the home of my ancestors. I was born in Okeechobee, where they also have lotsa caddle. So, almost 5 (human) years ago, my Dad, who is my Total Best Mate, got hurt Very, Very Bad an hadda be put back together an is still goin’ to the doctor.”
“Oh, for Lassie’s Sake!” I exclaimed. “How truh-MATIC!”
“Fur sure!” Stoli agreed. “So, Dad had always wanted a pooch like me an, since he hadda have a Service Dog, he found ME. I was a white fluffball pupper, an, soon as I didn’t need Mommy Milk anymore, Dad brought me home. We’ve been Besties ever since. Us Blueys are one-person Poocheroos An, not to brag, but we’re also Very Smart! (probly smarter than our humans.) But I’m no Snobnose. I love hangin’ out with Mom when Dad’s elsewhere. An I love snugglin’! However, I do have my own bedroom cuz I SNORE. Or, if I just wanna chill, I can close the door.”
“So, whadda you guys like to do?”
“Well, I’m a Fair Dinkum Whizzbang with Tennis Ball Catch on land or wader. WATCH!”
His Dad grabbed a green tennis ball an zipped it straight to Stoli. It looked like a blur to me by Stoli caught it — bam!
“I also love WADER anywhere,” he continued, “pools, ocean, river! Com’ON, Bonz, you GOTTA see THIS!”
We followed him out to the luh-NI/pool. Stoli stood on the edge of the pool, At The Ready.
His Dad sailed a tennis ball into the pool an Stoli caught it before it hit the wader. After a couple throws his Dad dived in for a liddle bit of Catch. (Woof! did I wanna jump in there with ’em, bein’ a wader dog myself!)
Just then, Stoli, who was standin’ nex to the pool fence, spotted a squirrel on top of the fence, twirlin’ his tall real fast an lookin’ at Stoli. They stood like stat-chews staring at each other for a coupla seconds, then that squirrel took off flyin’ across the top of the fence like his tail was on fire an Stoli took off after him. They ran side-by-side until Stoli came to the end of the fence an put on the skids. I bet that squirrel hadda tail to tell when he got home.
“I’m also pretty well traveled”, Stoli continued. “I’ve have lotsa ad-VEN-churs with Dad.
When I hear the truck fire up, I’m Ready to GO! I’ve even worked ackshull caddle myself.
Even in the Pens, which is more challenging. Dad says I preddy much knew what to do right away cuz it’s in my JEANS. We’ve been to Collar-AHH-do an Mon-TAN-uh an other places called The West. It’s that way. (He pointed.) Ooo, an one time I ackshully app-ree-HEN-did a Bad Guy buh-fore the pleece dogs could even get outta their cars! Full disclosure:
Sometimes, when Dad an his frens are watching football (which human guys seem to go a liddle nuts about), they sometimes leap right outta their chairs an start yellin’, an I might get confused an try to apprehend THEM.”
“PAW-some, Stoli!” I exclaimed. “You’ve done a LOT for bein’ so young! So, got any pooch or human pals?”
“Sure! I gotta BUNCHA human brothers an sisters: Ashley, Austin, Taylor, Liddle Ronnie, Justin an Jessica. They’re WAY Crispy Bikkies. There’s Jerry, she’s a Lab neighbor. I hadda buddy Out West called Fenny. I get along with most all fellow pooches. Also CATS. I love cats. My cat bestie’s an orange tabby neighbor. She comes over an hangs out sometimes. An, not to brag but, they all pretty much know I’m The Dog! Ya know? Just comes natch-rull. PLUS, I really like BLING, speshully Dad’s Super Cool Bikkies gold chain. I have a Carhartt collar which is great, but not like his. It’d look so Pawsome against my coat, doncha think?”
“Absolutely!” I agreed.
Heading home, I was thinkin’ about Stoli’s advenchur-filled life, an how he’s helpin’ his Dad in so many ways only a dog can.
Till next time,
