Noah Weinstein is one of those poocheroos who always look like they’re about to step into the ring at Westminster, know what I mean? Every super shiny hair in place, ears in Alert/Payin’ Attention mode. An that bouncy “Yes, it’s ME!!” strut. But he’s real frenly, too, not like he thinks he’s All That an a Bag of Pupperoni. He’s something I never heard of: an Italian Grey-Waa-Waa. It’s part chihuahua and part Italian Greyhound, and he sure got the right parts: a liddle bigger than a total chihuahua, long greyhound legs, sleek body and that long sniffer – very arrow-di-namic.
He was right there to greet us at the door: LOTS of barkin’, Wag-and-Sniff, then intros.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you in the fur, Mr. B. This is my Mommy, Susan, and my Daddy, Howard. Please make yourselves comf-tubble. Would you care for a snack? Some water, perhaps?”
He pointed toward a table with lotsa duh-licious lookin’ stuff. (Well, it WAS almost Snack Time.) There were these liddle wrinkly things all in a row on a plate. Noah called ’em figs. I nodded like I knew what a fig was, but I’ll Google ’em later. Me an my assistant agreed everything was doglicious.
“I’m eager to hear your story,” I told him, pencil poised.
Noah curled up gracefully on his chair. “Mommy and Daddy had a wunnerful Whippet named Tara. She went to Dog Heaven when she was 11, an that very same day Mommy an Daddy saw four rainbows, which made ’em feel not so sad, cuz they knew Tara was all happy, an also that maybe there was another pooch somewhere who was ’pose to be their Next Dog.
“Later, they visited the humane society in Stuart. There were a buncha of pups all spiffy and cute, in a row along one hallway. In another hallway was me, by myself, just sitting’ there in my crate. I’m not sure why, maybe cuz I’m Super Barky, as you noticed. Anyway, Mr. B., it was One Of Those Moments, ya know? Mommy always hoped for a liddle dog, like a chihuahua. But Daddy really wanted more of a Whippet or Italian Greyhound. And There I Was, a MIX of those EXACT BREEDS. Plus, I look a lot like Tara. When I got let out to say hello I jumped right up on Mommy and Daddy and started givin’ ’em kisses.
“They wanted to take me home right then an there, but I hadda be checked out first. So, they hadda wait till the next day. Well, next morning, Mommy and Daddy were waitin’ at the door, at 5:30 a.m. (It opened at 8.) They wanted to Be Sure!”
“That is so cool,” I said.
“I KNOW! I was just a pupster then. I’m 10 now. Since my early years are a MISS-try, I dunno why I was real nervous at my new home at first. Maybe cuz I thought it’d all just disappear. But it DIDN’T. Mommy an Daddy were so nice. And they gave me zillions of toys. I’d never even had ONE before, an I was so excited.”
“Any special pals?”
“Sure. Mommy’s cousin Wendy has a cat, Stormy, who’s pretty cool. Then, there’s Samson and Delilah, they live nearby. They’re real nice. Kinda slow walkin’, like they wanna be sure they don’t step in anything ukky.”
“These are POOches?”
“Ackshully, they’re Sand Hill Cranes. They have red heads and they’re super long-leggedy. Oh, an the squirrels. I just bark at them. A LOT! They’re sorta nuts.”
“Good one!” I commented. “I noticed you’re extra neat an well-groomed. What’s your secret?”
“Thanks, Mr. B. I guess it’s mostly good DogNA. Plus, I love baths. Even though, when I’m wet, I look totally goofy. But I fluff back up real good.
“By the way, Mr. B., you should check out my website, just Google Suzard Gallery. See, Daddy’s a really good ard-ist, and he drew a buncha of pikshurs of me in my crate, which him an Mommy call – are you ready for this – Noah’s Ark! Totally Cool Dog Biscuits! An there’s a section all about ME, with phodos of me learning Basic Dog Stuff. I don’t need my crate anymore, so now my Noah’s Ark is the CAR. Come look.”
“We went out to the garage and Noah’s Mom opened the back of the car. There was a very large space covered with fluffy quilts, two comftubble-looking pillows; special food and water dishes and some toys.”
“Bow-WOW!” I exclaimed.
Back inside, Noah continued. “When Daddy’s doin’ his art, I sit beside him an provide Inspiration. I guess I’m sorta a Daddy’s Boy. But when we’re watchin’ TV, I sit partly on Mommy’s lap, and partly on Daddy’s.
“I have my own bed, too. I share it with Mommy and Daddy. Before I go to sleep, Daddy takes me out to Do My Doodie. Then, I zoom back, jump in bed an burrow under the covers, to get the Best Spot.
“I’ve learned lotsa stuff, too, Mr. B. I can jump through HOOPS; an do Mighty Leaps to catch toys Mommy throws; an sit patiently an Wait-Wait-Wait, till Mommy says ‘OK’ before I eat a treat that’s right there on the floor in front of me; an say ‘I love you’ in Human. Akshully, I’m still workin’ on that. So far it’s like, ‘Ahee-woooooov-rooooooo;’ I also know how to meow; an …”
“Wait! What? You meow? Like a … a cat? No Woof?”
“No Woof, Mr. B! I think that’s important, since this IS the 21st century, post-species era, don’t you?”
“Absolutely!”
“Do you wanna hear my doglosophy?” Noah asked.
“Absolutely.”
“Two Things: Always Act Like You Have A Purpose; and Be A Best Friend.”
“I like that, Noah. A lot. Thanks for sharing.”
Heading home, I was thinking about Noah’s doglosophy, an promised myself to be a Better Best Friend to My Mom. An, my Purpose could be to find out what a fig is.
Till next time,
The Bonz
