Molly Farhy is one of those puppers who just ex-ZOODS Bouncy Joy! Me an my assistant got lost in Molly’s real pretty nay-ber-hood, amongst lotsa beauty-full trees an winding roads: so, when we finally got un-wound, Molly anna nice lady, were on the curb wavin’ us in, Thank Lassie!
The nice lady was holdin’ Molly, who’s a charming an puh-TEET, 7-year-old Maltese with a luck-JURY-us silky white coat. She was about the size of a loaf of bread, and she was wearin’ a pretty pink flower on her collar. Her eyes were Totally Sparkling.
“Hi, Mr. Bonzo! How are YOU? Come’on IN. I’m Molly! I got GROOMed just for you! Hair AN nails!” (She did a liddle twirl.) “This is my mom Judy. I call her Goppy. My Dad’s John. He’s FaFa. Me an FaFa are soulmates, pretty much. He hadda prior appointment. They’re SNOWbirds, an I’m a Snowbirddog. We’re from Pencil-VANE-yuh. A place called PITTS-burrg!”
“A great pleasure! You look lovely!” I replied, apologizing for our lateness as we followed Molly and her Mom inside. “No worries!” Molly replied cheerfully.
We got all SIT-chew-waited, an Molly popped over to my assistant, who was breaking a duh-lishus bacon strip from The Satchel into Molly-appropriate pieces, which Molly was quickly dispatching with delicate enthusiasm.
“Yum!” she exclaimed as she polished off the last bit. “I’m gonna ask Gobby to please get me some of these. So, should I tell you my tail now? I think I’ve got it all re-membered.”
“Absolutely, Miss Molly!” I replied. “Whenever you’re ready!” I opened my notebook.
“K. So, Gobby an FaFa had lost their buh-loved pree-vious Maltese, Malti, an Gobby wanted to get another one Right Away! But FaFa said they shouldn’t RUSH, an that no other pooch could replace Malti. Well, Gobby sorta kept lookin’ an, this one time (it was onna Thursday) she came across a message on something called Craig’s List (which I think is this place On The Line where humans can find ANYthing they’re lookin’ for). Anyway, this message said, ‘Molly is still available.’ An there was a pick-shur of ME. The message said I was a 9-months-old female an had had the No Puppies pruh-SEED-jure.
“At the time, I was in Ocean City, MARY-land, which was about 2 hours away. So, that very Saturday, Gobby an FaFa drove to Maryland. Well, this time it was Gobby who wasn’t too sure. So FaFa, who didn’t think any pooch could EVER replace Malti, took one look, took me for a liddle walk, an THAT was IT! I hadda Furever Family!”
“Oh, Miss Molly,” I exclaimed, “It was totally Meant To Be!”
“I KNOW Right?” she replied. “Altho, at first, there were Issues. Mostlu cuz I had been what humans call PAYper Trained.”
“Oh, yeah, I’ve heard of that,” I said.
“Yup. So I kinda tended to Do My Duty wherever there happened to be, well, PAYper. But it only took me about a week to learn the Proper Pruh-SEED-jure. Mom was a liddle SKEPtickle at first, but we eventually bonded, an now I go everywhere with her, an mostly, when Gobby an FaFa go somewhere I go, too. In Pencil-VANE-yuh, when I can’t go with them, Miss Jean stays with me at my house.
“I’m a Very Good traveller: Onna plane, I have a liddle carrier for under the seat, an lotsa times I sit in Gobby’s lap. I am Very Puh-light an Quiet.
“Now, me an FaFa are Total Besties. An guess what? FaFa is an animal doctor. What humans call a VET something. I cant pruh-nounce it. He’s retired now.”
“Woof, that is Totally Cool Kibbles!” I exclaimed. “So, do you have favrite toys, or foodstuffs?”
“I have a buncha of toys. Lemme show you.” She zipped off, then zipped back with a very flopsy gray rabbit stuffy. The she grabbed another stuffy.
“This is NEW,” she announced. It was bright blue with colorful patchwork squares. Anna face. I think it was a rabbit but I’m not sure. It, too, was squeaky.
“As far as foodstuffs,” Molly continued, “I NEVER refuse food! My FAVRITE is TABLE food, speshully a Rotisserie chiggen from Fresh Market. TRAY Yum!!”
“Whaddya do for fun?”
“I like the beach, just not the ackshull WATER. But I REALLY enjoy diggin’ holes in the sand. However, we don’t go that offen cuz I get Very Dirty, bein’ white, an all.”
“I can understand that,” I commented.
“Up north, I go out on the boat in the Sassafras River (wearin’ my life jacket, of course). I’m sorta meh about boats. We have a farm up in Maryland, an I like hangin’ out with (well, barkin’ at) the cows. An chasin’ the chiggens. WAY fun! Down here, I’m not as intrested in the squirrels an birds an rah-butts as lotsa other pooches seem to be. I like playin’ in the woods in Vermont an inna place called the CAT-skills. Funny thing, tho, I’ve never seen a single cat up there. Me an my pooch pals think it should be called Dogskills.”
“Makes sense. Do you have pooch pals here?”
“Yes. There are LOTSA dogs here. Some of my pals are Maddie, Elmo, an Oliver. We see each other on Leash Walks.”
As small an delicate as Miss Molly is, she does have a Significant Bark, which I hadn’t heard until there was a sound at the door. Suddenly the air was filled with Major Barks I reelized were coming from petite Miss Molly. BARK!BARK!BARK!BARK!BARK! an she rushed to the door.
When she trotted back, I exclaimed, “Woof! Miss Molly. I’m impressed!”
“Yes, I DO have a nice bark, don’t I. I am a Good Watch Dog. I always alert Gobby an FaFa when there’s a knock or a doorbell ring. Then,” she added, “I usually hide under the bed.”
Headin’ home, I was thinkin’ about charmin’ Miss Molly, a petite Snowbirddog with a Very Big, Happy Doganality.
Till next time,
Don’t Be Shy
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