CHAPTER 35
“Hello, all of you; I wasn’t here with the gang the first time you were here, but I’ve heard all about you from Chumbawumba, Rory, and Yukyuk.
“And so, please accept my heartfelt greetings, which I now extend to Taterskin and Rovette, Stripes and Marmalade, Drako, as well as Rinky and . . . who is this? Who are you, big red Bird?”
“Thunder and Lightning! I’m not a Bird,” Terri said, getting tired of being misidentified. “I’m a flying Lizard, the Queen of the Skies! My name is Terri. I’m a Pterodactyl. What’s your name?”
“A Terra Tactile? An earth toucher? Odd name for a flying Lizard,” the feathered creature said. “But to answer your question, my name is Alexis. I am frugivorous, for the most part. As you can probably deduce on your own, I am an African Gray Parrot.”
Terri didn’t know why this bird called her an “earth toucher,” but was not curious enough about it to ask Alexis for an explanation. Truth be told unvarnishedly, Terri is not the smartest animal around. Alexis, on the other hand, probably is. She even knows and understands things that I don’t, and I thought I was passably intelligent, to be totally candid with you on the subject. After all, I’m smarter than the average animal, and even smarter than the average Dog, and I am the one dictating this book. After all, how many animals do you know who could do that — even those of the Canis Lupus subspecies, to which I belong?
But Alexis, she can talk to humans — in their own language! What I mean is, she can communicate with humans even when they aren’t wearing a Doolittle. This is astounding, really. The only human words I have learned are my name, Taterskin (which is Bark-bark-ROWF in the dog dialect of Mammalian) and words like ‘food,’ ‘lunch,’ ‘ball,’ ‘fetch,’ ‘walk,’ and ‘dinner.’
OK, enough about Alexis and her amazing mental prowess and agility. Back to what happened at the watering hole that day:
Chumbawumba wanted to know where Terri was from.
“Germany,” the flying Lizard replied.
“Germany? You mean that place with all the beer and castles and oom-pah-pah music?”
“That’s the place!” Terri confirmed. “But you forgot soft pretzels and mustard. I love me some soft pretzels and mustard. . . . Anybody got any soft pretzels and mustard?”
“No, not around here,” Yukyuk said. “Maybe down where the humans are. They might have that sort of thing.”
“How long ago was it that you were over there in Germany, Terri?” Rory wanted to know. There was something about the transluminescence of Terri’s wings, and the antiquish coloring of her skin that made the Lion wonder if this flying Lizard was from a former time — a way former time.
“Oh, a little while ago,” Terri said. “It seems like just yesterday to me . . . or last week . . . or somewhere along around in there, anyway.”
“What Rory is asking, I think,” Tubthumper clarified, “is what year was it when you were there last?”
“Oh, that; I don’t know, exactly. I think Albert said it was about 150 million years ago — give or take a geologic age.”
We animals, having all gotten acquainted now, sat and stood around a good while, catching up, asking questions about each other’s life experiences and philosophies, and plans for the future.
This got me to thinking. I told Rovette that I wanted to talk to her in private, and we walked over to the far edge of the pond so that we could be alone.
I sat down on my haunches, took her right paw in mine, looked deep into her beautiful brown eyes, and asked her if she would be my Forever Dogfriend.
She said yes! I was so happy that I gave her a quick butterfly kiss and then raced around the pond three times, whooping and barking and howling joyously.
When I rounded the bend by the assembled animals for the fourth time, Rory stepped in front of me, holding up his massive paw.
“What’s going on, Taterskin?” the Lion inquired of me. “What has gotten into you? Did you get into some dognip or something?”
“I don’t know what dognip is, and I don’t care what dognip is right now, but no, it’s not that, Rory. I’m just so very happy right now that I can’t rest — I’ve got to race around a bit to burn off my excess energy from an overflow of exuberance” —
“Hold on, son,” Chumbawumba then said, holding up his foot in a ‘stop this nonsense’ gesture. “Calm yourself! What’s up? What’s happened to cause you to act this way all of a sudden?”
“I know what it is,” Tubthumper said, stepping forward, with a grin on her face. “Taterskin and Rovette” —
“Hold on a second, Tubthumper,” I said, it now being my turn to raise my paw. “Let me tell it.”
“Okay, Taterskin,” Tubthumper said, taking a step back.
“Rovette, come over and join us, please,” I called.
When Rovette walked up (she had been watching us the whole time), I whispered to her, “Let’s tell them right now, all right?”
She nodded demurely in agreement.
“Rovette,” I announced to my friends and new acquaintances, “has agreed to be my Forever Dogfriend!”
Rovette then started to add something, but her voice was drowned out by cheers and hurrahs and the stamping of feet and legs and paws. The Elephant siblings were trumpeting, flapping their ears, and describing concentric circles in the air with their trunks. It turns out that Chumbawumba, although he tries to act macho, is as much a sentimental romantic as his sister is.
Rory the Lion and Stripes the Bengal Tiger roared as Marmalade the Orange Tabby miaowed as loudly as she could. The Bearded Dragon hissed, the Pterodactyl screeched, the Hyena chuckled, and the Parrot gurgled, trilled, whistled, and squawked with gusto — although she barely knew us, having just met.
The Rhino grunted and even squealed a little, but it sounded a little “put on” to me, as if he were simply joining in because he thought it was expected of him and he would make himself conspicuous if he abstained from the revelry.
I didn’t mind that, though; nothing could ruffle my fur that day. I even joined in myself with the merrymaking, adding to the racket. I got off a series of loud barks, but then realized that they sounded kind of unmasculine, or juvenile (too high-pitched) and I glanced over sheepishly at Rovette. She had a quizzical expression on her face, and turned her head to one side, lolling out her tongue in silent laughter at my exhibition. So I deliberately deepened the tone of my voice and barked several more times, a couple of octaves lower than before. That was better, I thought.
Rovette approached and nuzzled me, and we stood together, facing our friends, as if we were presenting ourselves as the Best in Show. Which, in a way, we were; that day, anyway, I guess.
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