Bindi Snowberger is one of the hap-hap-happiest, most in-THOOSY-astic puppers I’ve EVER met, with a Super Joyful Puppy Doganality, an (when she’s not sittin’) a non-stop Wiggle-Wag.
She loves hoomans an fellow pooches large an small, an her crate an her Stuffy Taco, an munchin’ on Pahm Frons, an givin’ endless Puppy Kisses.
Bindi’s a Mini Australian Shepherd, black, gold an white, with gold eyebrows an the Cool Kibblest front sox: white with gold poka-dots; anna nice long black tail.
The instant the door opened, Bindi Wiggle-Wagged up for the Wag-an-Sniff. “Oh, Goody, you’re HERE! HI, MR, BONZO! I can’t wait to tell you my Tail. Speshully the part with the DUCK! This is my Mom Erica. My Dad’s Danny. He’s not here right now. Come’on we’re gonna go sit by the pool, OK?”
“Absolutely, Miss Bindi,” I said, noticing that, before I’d even got my notebook out, Bindi was givin’ my assistant lotsa Puppy Kisses in-buh-tween stickin’ her nose into The Satchel; as my assistant rooted around for a coupla duh-lishus bacon snacks.
“Thank you! That was YUM!” Bindi said puh-litely, polishing off the treat, then announcing, “Buh-fore I tell you my Very Excitin’ Tail, I just wanna clarify a coupla things. ONE: although I AM a Mini Australian Shepherd, I an the rest of my breed are NOT from Australia.”
“What? But then, why are you …” I said, sorta confused.
“I KNOW. But, see, that part of our name is cuzza somebody called Miss NO-mer, I don’t know who she is, but I prefer to jus call it INACCURATE. See, a really long time ago, sheep herders came to here from YOUR-up with their sheep an doggos, mostly Collies an mixtures an stuff, an then they made some breeding improvements an ended up with US. They probly stopped in Australia on the way, to rest I guess. But our breed was duh-VELL-upped over here. I, personally, am from Al-uh-BAM-uh. I was Mom’s Birthday Present.”
“Well, that’s Totally Cool Kibbles!” I remarked.
“I know right? Also, I, personally, Don’t Herd. Never have. Never plan to. Or swim. I CAN, but I CHOOSE not to. I mostly play with my pooch pals, an hooman frens. I’ve got a TON of frens I wanna to give a Woof-Out to, lemme see, my sister Kit, an Mack; Aunt Mel an baby Blair (who I’ll meet when he’s a liddle older), Aunt Willow, Grampa Tom, Gramma Eileen (she’s Way Crispy Biscuits! She brought me this Cool Kibbles hair ribbon from SCOTland); Barney (we play a LOT) an his hooman Emilia; Violet, Gator, Muffin; Gramma Marilyn, Grampa Rich, Uncle Eddie; an my PACK: Maya, Maisy, Henry an Oliver, we’re all Mini Aussie Shepherds. We run all over the yard. Whew, I hope I got everybuddy!
“Also, I’m not ashamed to say I have what is known as Wiggle Butt. What I say is, if you’re gonna wag, GO FOR IT! An my FAVORITE TOY is my Taco Stuffy with Hot Sauce. SEE?”
Bindi zipped off, returning in a couple seconds with a plump little taco stuffy with stuffy hot sauce an what I think were stuffy lettuce and onion. It had a smiley face, too. Bindi was very gentle with it; it wasn’t munched up at all.
“OK, NOW I’m gonna share my Duck Tail,” she said, curling up with her Taco.
“It was back in JOON an me an Mom were jus walkin’ around the yard buh-for she had a Work Call. Alluva sudden, I got startled by somethin’ in the GRASS. I thought it was one of those MOLES. But it was this liddle bitty baby DUCK, which is called a DUCK-ling. It was all alone an I’m preddy sure it was scared. I asked in my most not scary voice where its Mama was, but I don’t think it understood Dog. Mom found out On Line that it was probly a Black-Bellied Whistling Duck an that we should not move it, so its Mom an Dad could find it. But, we waited till almos dark an it was still all alone. Me an Mom were afraid the little fluffball would get duh-voured or get a chill or something.
“Mom called a fren who’s a wildlife doctor (that’s a hooman who takes care of animals who live outdoors an aren’t pets) who said to bring in inside an put it inna box with one of those squishy bottles with hot wader so it’d be all cozy an warm. So Mom Very Carefully picked it up inna towel an gently set it inna shoe box with the wader boddle an tucked it in for the night. I told it to not be scared, an I think it went to sleep. I hoped it wouldn’t haff to go to Duck Heaven jus yet. An it DIDN’T, Thank Lassie.
“Nex morning me an Mom went lookin’ for the neighborhood nest with ‘our’ duck-ling’s brothers an sisters an Mama an Daddy. We finally found them in a big ol’ oak tree: Two grown-up duck pairs were whistling, an bringin’ breakfast to their babies in a hollow in the tree. So me an Mom raced home to get the shoebox an baby duckling. I don’t know what they were sayin’ but our baby duckling heard ’em an started peepin’! So we moved the shoe box closer to the other ducks an two of ’em flew down onto the driveway, an guess what? That liddle fluffball hopped outta the shoebox and waddled over to the big ducks. Honestly, Mr. Bonzo, I can’t even ex-PLANE how happy that made me. I’ve never been an ackshull Mama myself, but I’m preddy sure that’s how it’d feel, you know?”
I wiped my eyes with my paw. “Absolutely, Miss Bindi,” I told her. “I’m certain of it.”
Headin’ home, Miss Bindi’s Duckling Tail had me thinkin’; how important it is for all us fellow creatures to help each other when needed: whether feathers, fur, scales, even hoomans. It shouldn’t matter all that much, doncha think?
Till next time,
