This week I met my innerview-ees – Petunia and Maisie Rulo – at their job, this big, Super Cool Kibbles place where, they explained, people bring lotsa spiffy FUR-nuh-chur and all sorts of other you-NEEK stuff they don’t want any more an it gets set up all fancy an then people who DO want it can get it. I think that’s how it goes. It’s called Cun-SIGN-mutt.
Inside, me an my assistant went up to a big counter with a liddle gate. Two nice ladies an pooches were there to greet us.
“Good afternoon,” I said. “I’m Bonzo an this is my assistant.”
“Go up an say Hi,” one of the ladies said to a short, very tidy, tan-an-brown, bulldog mixture, with a really adorable underbite an a super sweet doganality.
“HI! Mr. Bonzo! I’m Petunia Rulo. Welcome! This is my Mom Patty, an THIS is my Very Bouncy liddle sister, Maisie. She’s still a goofy puppy, as you can probly tell. An THIS is her Mom, Barbara (who’s also my ANT, cuzza HER Mom an MY Mom bein’ sisters).”
A slender, wiggly liddle all-black pooch bounced over. Her shiny hair stuck out in all directions, an her ears were Totally Amazing, bigger than the entire rest of her delicate little head, shaped like sailboat sails, one sticky-uppy, the other also sticky-uppy in a kinda different duh-rection. TRAY On Trend.
“YEP, it’s ME. Maisie! I’m just 6 months old which isn’t that many. I just LOVE ’splorin’ stuff. An runnin’ around. An greetin’ all the humans who come in. An playin’ with Petunia, but sometimes she’s, like, ‘Will you just CHILL for 2 seconds, for Lassie’s Sake, Maisie!’”
I laffed softly buh-hind my paw. “It’s a great pleasure to meet you all. It must be so fun workin’ in such an intrestin’ place. I can’t wait to hear your tails!”
We followed Maisie an Petunia an their Moms back to their office, where my assistant distributed duhlishus snacks from The Satchel, after which I opened my notebook. “I’ll start cuz I got here first,” Petunia said, an began her tail.
“After losing her buh-loved pooch Molly, Mom was finally ready to adopt another pooch: one who could go to work with her every day, an be an o-FISH-ull Greeter, you know, frenly but CALM, not all barky. So she went to the Humane Society an told ’em what she was lookin’ for.
“The Humane Society has a big sorta front lobby area where pooches are brought out, usually one atta time, to meet-an-greet puh-TEN-shull Furever families. SO, at the very moment Mom walked in, I was meetin’ with a lady who was maybe gonna adopt me. I was onna leash held by a Humane Society person, which is the ROOL.
“I had been found in Very Bad Shape, by the side of a road, really skinny, with, like, a zillion fleas, an ukky skin allergies. I even hadda have a trans-FEW-shun, an I still hafta eat GLOO-tun-free foodstuffs. I’m about 6-ish now, but, Thank Lassie, I can’t ruh-member much about my life buh-fore that. Anyway, the lady was nice an all, but I was still feelin’ sorta dizz-mull.
“So THEN, Mom walks in and looks over at me an, buh-leeve-it-or-not, we just looked right smack at each other an, Mr. Bonzo, I KNEW she was my Furever Mom. I just KNEW! An she knew it, too.”
“Oh, Woof, Miss Petunia!” I exclaimed.
“Anyway,” she continued, “Mom kept catchin’ the Humane Society lady’s eye, and pointin’ to me and noddin’ her head like crazy. For 2 hours, Mom stood there, across the room, an jus waited, while the lady was tryin’ to decide whether she wanted me. The ROOLS are that us puh-TEN-shull adoptees can’t be put On Hold, but she couldn’t decide, so she went home. Mom was still smilin’ an wavin’ an stuff from across the room, like, THAT’S MY DOG, so the Humane Society lady walked me over to Mom an handed her my leash. After me an Mom went through the adoption pruh-seed-ure, I got to go to my Furever Home. PLUS, Mom gave me my beaudy-ful new name, Petunia. It USE to be Ravioli, if you can buh-leeve it.”
I wiped my eyes with my paw. “Oh, Woof!, Petunia. What a wonderful story. And your new name totally suite you!”
“Thank you, Mr. Bonzo. Mom sometimes also calls me a Land Hippo.”
“OK, my turn,” interjected Maisie. “I’m tryin’ to get it right. I’m still learnin’ lotsa puppy stuff, cuzza bein’ only 6 months old an all.”
“No worries. Just take your time, Miss Maisie,” I told her.
“OK, so, It was right buh-fore the Really Bad Storms we just had. Mom had only recently lost Sugar Cube, a chuh-wa-wa/papillon/rottie mixture, after 13 years together. Everything was all tense an stuff cuz everybody, includin’ the shelters, were gettin’ ready for the HURRY-cane.
“Ant Patty knew Mom was All Sad cuzza Sugar Cube, so, when they were both here at work, she went on line to the H.AL.O. site, saw my pick-shur on the Available for Adoption screen, an left it on so Mom could see me. Which she did, an immediately said, ‘I WANT HER!’
“Cuzza the comin’ storm, H.A.L.O. did the paperwork really fast and, just like THAT, I had a Furever Home.”
“PAWSOME!” I exclaimed.
“I think I might be just a teeny bit more of a handful than Mom had expected,” Miss Maisie continued. “I mean, after all, I’m still a Pupper, so it’s my JOB to zoom around, an play, an nibble, an chew my leash, destroy the baseboards, an terrorize the cats, Lila an PuttyTat. Right?
“Plus, Mom googled and found out I’m probly mostly Cairn Terrier, so all that stuff’s inherited.”
Headin’ home, I was thinkin’ about how sometimes really scary circumstances can turn out with very happy endings, even when everything seems like Soggy Dog Biscuits. Sweet Miss Petunia and perky, hilarious Miss Maisie are great examples, doncha think?
Till next time,
