This week I yapped with Tattoo an Tierra Kotkin. Tattoo’s an older pooch, a Pug, mostly watches animal shows on TV an naps. And Tierra, well, Tierra is the absolutely teeniest pooch I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Maybe 2 pounds. She’s a long-haired Teacup Chihuahua, an she’s Queen of the House.
So, anyway, soon as we knocked, there was a lotta barkin.’ Tattoo an Tierra’s Momma, Jill, opened the door an there was Tattoo: black squished nose, flopped-over ears, an clicky toenails, and a nice cream-colored coat. His tongue was hangin’ out on one side, sorta jaunty, I thought. He looked like a liddle loaf of bread. All the barkin’ was comin’ from a dainty redhead, yappity-yappin’ like crazy, standin’ tall (all 10 inches) an channeling a German Shepherd. She was ferocious an hilarious.
I mustered the most non-threatening, non-growly voice I could. “A gracious good afternoon. I’m Bonzo the Columnist an this is my Assistant. Thank you for agreeing to an innerview.” I pointed to my notebook. The yappin’ ceased.
“Oh, right! Sorry, I didn’t ree-lize it was you at first. You’re wearin’ a hat in your picksure. I’m Tierra!”
After the Wag-an-Sniffs, she made the introductions an led us in. Tattoo plopped down on a rug by the patio sliders.
From her Momma’s lap, Tierra said, “I’m spokespooch. Tattoo doesn’t hear so good. He’s, like, a hundred in human. We always read your column.” She turned to Tattoo. “THIS IS MR. BONZO FROM THE PAY-PER! I TOLD HIM I’M THE SPOKESPOOCH!”
Tattoo smiled. “Welcome, Young Fella. I like your column. Didn’t recognize you at first without your hat.”
I smiled back. “AN HONOR TO MET YOU SIR. I’M ALWAYS INTRESTED IN HOW POOCHES FIND THEIR FOREVER FAMLIES.”
“I got this,” said Tattoo before Tierra could open her mouth. “Our Momma usta have big dogs, Boxers, but one day about 11 years ago, I buh-leeve it was, she was browsing through the Pooch Department at the Vero Beach Humane Society. As usual, there was a LOTTA barkin.’ Everybody was showin’ off. Well, except for me. Hadn’t been there too long. My memry isn’t what it used to be, but I recall running through the streets, no idea where I was, when I got picked up by some humans, who took me to the shelter. I didn’t have one of those chip things, and I didn’t remember much. They figured I was a Runaway, but nobody came to claim me, so they got me all tidied up and ready to find a new home.
“They were awful nice, but I was concerned and a little bit scared, wonderin’ what would happen to me. When Momma came to browse, the other pooches were bouncin’ around lookin’ all perky, an there I was, lying in a heap like a bowl of soggy kibbles. I’d just had the No Puppies Procedure an I can tell you, Young Fella, THAT was no Walk in the Park. I was a liddle woozy, just tryin’ to think Positive Thoughts and not toss my kibbles. But the reality was, I was an Older Dog, not a cute puppy, anymore. Then, low an behold, there was Momma, lookin’ right at me. I couldn’t buh-lieve it!”
Tierra interrupted. “Momma knew they were MFEO! Isn’t that so Cool Dog Biscuits, Mr. Bonzo?”
“Totally! Um … what’s MFEO?”
“Meant For Each Other,” Tierra explained. “So, 5 years ago, Momma decided to get Tattoo a pooch pal. She found Me on line, with a pickshure. I belonged to a lady in St. Cloud who hadda mobile dog grooming service. Of course, Momma couldn’t resist me. I mean, who could, right?”
She tossed her fluffy ears an smiled. She was right – who could?
“How was it when you an Tattoo first met?”
“We got along great right away. We’re BFF’s. He’s like a wise ol’ uncle, an I help him with stuff cuzza him being old an mostly deaf.”
“Whaddya do for fun?”
“Well, Momma usta get toys, but we’re not into toys that much. An we’re mostly indoor pooches. Tattoo usually just hangs out an watches animal TV. An naps. Sometimes he goes outside. He has this Doggie Door to the patio. He lies on the grass in the sun, an thinks about stuff. Very Zen. I NEVER go out cuzza hawks. I’m the perfect Snack Size. (To tell you the truth, Mr. Bonzo, sometimes I forget how liddle I am. I ackshully feel more like a Pug, hangin’ out with Tattoo for so long.)
“We do like our leash walks. We get two walks a day, morning an noon.”
“Walks? Walks, did you say?” Tattoo sat up. “Ah, yes. There’s this Pooch Perfect liddle gal I run into on our walks – Bella. She’s a Jack Russell.” He sighed. “Whatta pooch.” He nodded off again.
“The funnest thing we both like is Campin!” Tierra continued. “We go to Long Point: us an Momma’s fren an two other pooches, Lulu, she’s a French Bulldog, an Darby, a Golden Retriever. Momma sets up this sorta playpen so we won’t get lost.”
“Any favorite food?”
“Mostly just regular dogfood. But we sometimes get to eat people food. If it hits the ground, it’s called Fair Game. Like meat, tomatoes, carrots, green beans. But not BROCCOLI! Tattoo has this special food dish called a Maze Bowl cuz he’s a Gobbler. It has a buncha narrow passageways in circles, so you can only nose out a coupla kibbles atta time. It makes you slow down, whether you want to or not. With a regular bowl, Tattoo would totally inhale his food, an get Tummy Troubles.
“At night, we watch TV with Momma, then go to sleep in our comfy beds.”
Heading home, I was thinking about the many different combinations of humans an animals that make up happy Forever Families. An wondrin’ if I should dig out that hat. Or update my headshot.
Till next time,
The Bonz
