Oliver Lundeen is, Paws Down, the teeniest poocho I’ve EVER met, thus far, No Woof! I mean, he’d probly need a map to get out of a soup bowl. (OK, that might be an exaggeration. Ackshully, he was 8 in May an, atta full 3 pouns, takes up almost as much space as a 16-oz. wader bottle.)
A frenly lady opened the door to welcome me an my assistant an, right away, I discerned the clickety-click of toenails across the floor. I looked down an there was Oliver: this liddle bit of shiny gold fluff, button nose, sparkly dark eyes, standin’ right in front of me, wigglin’ an barkin’ to beat the band. He had that cuddly-wuddly, itsy-bitsy Teddy Bear look that makes humans go bananas an start speakin’ in Baby Talk. (Which, Thank Lassie, my assistant refrained from doing.)
Oliver was rockin’ a snazzy green-an-purple necktie, an I could already see that, although he’s only 3 pouns, he has a Big, ee-BOOLY-ent Doganality.
“WELLcome to our home, Bonz. It’s OK to call you Bonz, right?” the fluffball said.
“Of course!”
“I’m Oliver Lundeen an this is my Mama, Linda. Come’on, we’ll go sit, an I’ll tell you my Tail. Err, by the way, is that the famous Satchel I’m always reading about?”
My assistant hastily reached into The Satchel, grabbed a duhlishus bacon treat, broke it into tiny pieces an set them before Oliver.
“My assistant was apparently enthralled by your Cuteness,” I smiled, opening my notebook.
“Yeah, I get that a lot,” Oliver grinned back, polishing off the final crumb.
“I will start by saying that I am a registered Yorkshire Terrier an, buhfore you ask – yes, I do have one of those long registration names: Theodore Christian Napier Byrd, if you can buh-leeve it.
Thank Lassie Mama changed it to Oliver, for Oliver Twist, a human boy inna famous book, who started out sad an ended up happy, like me, Mama says.
“Ever since I was out of my puppyhood, I have lived at the breeder’s an worked as a Puppy Daddy.
“Meanwhile, my future Furever Mama found herself alone for the first time inna long time, an she was lonely an gloomy, so she decided to obtain a dog. She’d always had dogs but they were all in Dog Heaven. So she began lookin’ for a Yorkie, spuh-cifically an older male.
“So she was askin’ around on The Line, an came upon a phodo of ME, sittin’ onna blanket lookin’, well, you know, lookin’ like I look. What had happened was, see, I couldn’t do my Puppy Daddy job anymore, so I was Red Tagged, an, unless somebody wanted me, I’d pretty soon be doing That Long Walk.
“Even tho I wasn’t in Great Shape, Mama wanted me, so she an my sister Erika drove up to get me. Mama saved me an, as she always reminds me, I saved her, too.”
“It was Totally Meant To Be, Oliver. Totally meant to be,” I said.
“Absolutely,” he agreed.
“So, tell me how things are going these days,” I suggested.
“I am one lucky pooch, Bonz. Even tho I have only 3 legs that ackshully work, an I don’t have teeth anymore, an my tongue sorta hangs out, I get along FINE. I can run just as fast as my pooch pals, an Mama fixes me speshul foodstuffs, and puts nice oil on my tongue. Plus, I have this Big, Beaudyful fenced yard to play in an … come ON, you gotta see THIS.”
With that Oliver took off out the patio screen door an around the corner to the fence gate.
At the bottom of the gate, at just Oliver’s height, was this round, curved glass window with a frame around it. It looked like one of those port-holes onna a Big Ship, but just his size.
“SEE! So I can look out an see whose here, an my pooch pals on the sidewalk out front!”
“Woof! Oliver! That is Seriously Crispy Biscuits!” I exclaimed.
“I KNOW! Right? I see lotsa those big, tall birds, that strut around together, sandhill cranes, Mama says. An, Woof! The lizards! They’re super fast an, if I happen to plop my paw down on one of ’em, poof! Off it zooms an all I have is a tail. Which is fine with me. I mean, what would I even DO with an entire lizard? I’d just pee-tooie it out right away. There’re also HAWKS, big scary birds who eat tidbits like me for LUNCH. So I NEVER go outside without Mama nearby.”
Back inside, Oliver showed me his many colorful leashes, hanging neatly on the wall by the door.
“I expect you have lotsa pooch pals,” I observed.
“Yes I DO! There’s Woody, a Yorkie like me; an Jack, a Brussels Griffon; an Max, also a Yorkie, an Watson, he’s BIG. Then there’s nay-bers Darla, a Shih Tzu, an Teddy, a poo mixture. Humans, too: Miss Taylor; an another sister, Misty, who makes me lotsa cool hats an stuff, with something called, ummm, Crow-SHAY. It’s amazin! I also have two brothers: I get to ride in my brother Mike’s truck, and my brother Caleb’s 4-wheeler. Woof! Is that fun!”
“SWEET!” I exclaimed.
“Then there’s Cats,” Oliver continued. “I’m not so sure about Cats. They walk by outside an give me The Eye, like they think they’re All That Anna Bagga Catnip. They’re probly perfectly fine, but they Creep Me Out.”
“I’ve been admiring your necktie,” I hastily segued.
“Thanks, Bonz! I have ties for every occasion! You should see my St. Patrick’s Day one: bright green with sequins an Very Large.”
His Mama zipped off, then returned with the tie: It WAS Very Large, and Green an Sparkly.”
“Pawsome Sauce!” I exclaimed.
“I also have lotsa flannel shirts,” Oliver continued. “Anna cozy blue hoodie for when I get outta the tub after my bath, so I won’t get chilly. An I wear my yellow-an-black one-sie when we’re watching the Steelers; an for Christmas, I havva red-an-white shirt that has ‘Ho!Ho!’ on it.
“I sleep with Mama, of course, an I have speshul padded stairs cuz the bed’s SO high up. My favrite thing is just bein’ where Mama is.”
Heading home, I was picturin’ tiny golden Oliver, after all those years without his own family or a life of his own, at last livin’ the happy life that he was meant for all along.
Till next time,
