Glory Schmitt is a TRAY charming, happily barky pooch (or rather, she pruh-FURS to say – “Vocal”). She’s about 10, best she can recall, a Huskie-ish mixture with big, brown eyes, one of those Cool Kibbles brindle coats, and beautiful, pointy, sticky-uppy ears with white at the front edges an also around her muzzle.
Glory was at the door with a nice lady, rockin’ a pink collar, an lookin’ a liddle shy. After a small hesitation an reassurance from the lady, she approached for the Wag-an-Sniff.
“Good afternoon,” I said. “I’m Bonzo an this is my assistant.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Bonzo. I’m Glory Schmitt an this is my Mom, Jessica, my Principal Human. My Spare Human is Josh. He’s elsewhere. Come’on IN. We’ll SIT. OK?”
“A pleasure, Miss Glory,” I replied as we got situated. “I understand you’ve pree-vee-us-ly spent some time in the Foster Program. I’m eager to hear your tail.”
She curled up nex to her Mom. “OK, so, lemme see, it was a coupla years ago – I was about 8 in Human – an my human couldn’t keep me anymore but I don’t remember zack-ly why. Anyway, I was brought to the Humane Society here, which was lucky for me, but I was a liddle confused.
Preddy soon I was placed in the Foster Program where, you know, you get to stay with a Very Nice Person or Famly, but only until, hopefully, you find a Furever Home.
“I was gettin’ con-CERNED, cuzza not bein’ an adorable, fluffy pupper, the kind who usually get scooped up pretty fast, ya know?”
“I totally do,” I replied.
“Anyway, Mom had been a Foster Program Volunteer for Quite Some Time: See, she didn’t wanna ackshully ADOPT another pooch cuz she had a pree-vee-us pooch, Bentley, who she loved So Much, an when Bentley hadda go to Dog Heaven, Mom was Very, Very sad an didn’t wanna feel that way again.”
“That happens a lot, with humans,” I commented.
“YEP! But then, what happened was, the Human Society sent out one of those E-mails tellin’ my story an probly havin’ my pick-shur, too, an Mom saw it an, she says, she was HOOKED. So she agreed to FOSTER me, but she absolutely wasn’t gonna ackshully commit to adopting me.”
“Yet, here you are,” I mused.
“I KNOW! Right? I mean, I knew she was The One. I trusted her right away. An, even though she didn’t wanna com-MIT, she also didn’t want anyone else to adopt me. (Which they coulda done since I was a foster.)
“So, after a year, Mom finally figured out what I already knew, an adopted me, Thank Lassie.”
“Woof, that’s a great tail, Miss Glory. So, how’re things going these days? What’s life been like in your Furever Home?”
“Totally PAW-some! I’m not what you’d call gruh-GARY-us: I like to do stuff like nappin, chasin’ the occasional lizard. Cats make me kinda nervous, tho. I mean, have you even looked one of ’em in the EYE? I’m pretty sure they know what I’m thinkin’! When I see a cat, or even if Mom just says the word ‘Cat,’ I jump. Like, one time Mom said ‘CAT’ an I jumped an accidently did what she calls Tootie Bootie, an startled MYSELF.”
“I know exactly what you mean, Miss Glory,” I replied, swallowing a laugh. “Although, over the years, I have acquired a number of good cat pals, I still think they’re miss-TEARY-us, an I’m firmly convinced they can TOTALLY see what we’re thinkin’.”
“Well, I’m glad I’m not the only one,” she said.
“I’m sure you’ve got a buncha both pooch and human frens,” I suggested.
“I do! There’s Gramma LaLa (who brings me TREATS! I call ’em LaLa Cookies. They’re duh-LISH); an my Spare Human Josh’s DAW-ters, Elena an Nora – they live inna Very Large Place called TEX-us, an they visited, an me an Elena shared SNACKS; an then there’s Gramma LaLa’s pooch Presley (His Full Name is King Presley of Three Oaks, if you can buh-leeve it. I sometimes call him Your Majesty just for fun!); an Miss Brittany; an Miss Marilyn, who does Really Good Caboose Scritches; an Miss Hannah, who dog-sits me; an my Vet! I love my Vet.
“’Cept fo my Mom an Gramma LaLa, I mostly hang out with my Spare Human Josh. He does ad-VEN-chures like takin’ a lotta pic-churs an this Cool Kibbles thing called SURFing. It’s aMAZE-ing! You do it at the beach. I help him get ready. You hafta have what’s called a BOARD. It’s this long, flat thingy, with a stretchy sorta rope attached. Whatcha do is, you pick it up around the sides an run out into the ocean a liddle ways, an then flop up on it on your tummy, then you splash with your arms till you get WAY FAR out, an THEN you wiggle around an go back the other way, an THEN, when there’s a Big Wave in front, you jump on toppa the board an Stand UP an stick your arms out an sqwunch over and try to not fall IN till you get to where the beach part is. An you’re also s’pose to look Seriously Cool Kibbles the Entire Time, an THEN, you just keep doin’ it till you get pooped out.”
“Woof! I’m pooped out just hearin’ about it,” I said.
“Well, I’M not that advenchurus. I’m pretty much a homebody. I enjoy occasional leash walks, playing with my laughin’ horse toy, sittin’ on the couch inna Family Pile with my humans; snugglin’ under the covers at night; havin’ Winsday dinners with Gramma Lala an Presley. I’m a fortunate grrrl, Bonzo. I really am!”
Heading home, I was feelin’ happy about all you pooches like Glory who have similar stories about findin’ the exactly right Furever Humans. An lookin’ forward to seein’ MY Furever Humans, an enjoyin’ my duhlishus evening bowl of yoghurt.
Till next time,
